


A New Morning

by relaxovision



Category: Gantz, Glee
Genre: Action, Adventure, Bullying, Coming of Age, Crossover, Depression, F/F, Faberry, Femslash, Friendship, Gantz - Freeform, Glee - Freeform, Romance, Suicide, brittana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 56,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relaxovision/pseuds/relaxovision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some death is the end, for others it's just the beginning. For Santana it means to fight for survival. Two years into this cruel game she's got it all figured out: she doesn't trust anyone and she doesn't need anyone. </p><p>Except that that's not quite correct.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Man is very well defended against himself, against his own spying and sieges; usually he is able to make out no more of himself than his outer fortifications. The actual stronghold is inaccessible to him, even invisible, unless friends and enemies turn traitor and lead him there by a secret path. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
> 
> I loving memory.

I am Santana Lopez.

Two years have passed since my first mission. That was shortly after my death back in the basement.

I've killed 45 fiends, "aliens" as the people who are summoned here call them, although I don't know where these creatures really come from. I've almost died 137 times and I was dead long before my actual death. I've gathered 91 points, which means I'm only nine points away from beating the game. Nine points and I'll be done.

That's what Gantz says anyway. I'm not sure what will actually happen once I reach a hundred points, but right now this is the only thing that keeps me going. I never had a life before I died.

The points are something I can work towards, something that's worth fighting for. And yes, I kill for that. Besides my name the only thing that you should really know about me is that I'm not a very nice person.

I am Santana Lopez.

I keep saying this to myself as a reminder. I have to. I cling to this last bit of what's left of my identity, try to hold onto it, chant it like a mantra each night before I got to sleep. It's pathetic actually.

Everything else that defined who I am I've lost to Gantz.

But what is a name, really?

Mostly it's a label. It's something people can call you. It doesn't describe who you are and it doesn't really say anything about you. It's basically something your parents come up with so they'd know what to yell when they're mad at you. It's something they can whisper soothingly when you're hurting. It's something to put on to IDs, tests, homework assignments, marriage certificates and tombstones.

But what is a name alone really?

What if someone passes your tombstone and reads your name and it doesn't tell them anything? Does is still matter if you've lived?

Don't all words lose their meaning if there aren't at least two people using the same language? And what good is a name if everyone you've ever cared about is dead?

I'm the only one who still knows who I am and who I once was. I'm the only one left to call me by my name, so what else is there to do but to repeat this evidence that I've lived over and over again and again.

I'm so incredibly close to forgetting sometimes. Out there, fighting, identities don't matter. I'm just the girl in the suit with the gun in her hand. I'm a killer. I don't have a face or a heart or a soul. I don't live, I survive. I don't breathe and I don't look, not really. Anything I'd see would scare me to death. I shut everything out, I don't hear evil, don't see evil, don't speak evil. Out there, the girl in the suit only exists to return.

Return to face a greater evil: Reality.

I've died in so many ways since I died in that basement two years ago. I've died and sometimes when I'm confronted with the silence of my bedroom and my thoughts become too loud, when I cannot convince myself that this is a game I have to win anymore, panic will take over and I wish I still had a reason to believe in God so I could pray and lose myself in faith and hopes and expectations. But the only thing that's left is my name and Gantz.

So this is what I intone instead: I am Santana Lopez. I'm eighteen years old (I don't think you continue aging after you've died). Santana. I am someone, at least to myself. I can make it day by day, ignoring the future, ignoring that there are no plans for me to make. I can go on, step by step and for each inch I make it I repeat: "Santana".

As I said: It's pathetic.

Of course, the other people who cross my path, those lost souls that come here every now and then, they don't know anything of all of this. Somehow this last piece of me has become sacred and I don't want to share. They'll leave again soon anyway; their company is always brief. So why should I give away something as precious as my identity? Why should I bother making friends or even allies when I know for certain that I'll lose them soon? I'm always on my own.

Instead I use these opportunities to enjoy myself. I tell them I'm called Maria, Anita, Carmen, whatever. I tell them I'm only fifteen and new. I tell them I don't know how to use the suit or how to fight. I use them as shields in the battle field and I laugh each time someone calls out my alias and frowns when I don't react.

It's hysterical what you can make people believe when you're nobody to them. Each time Gantz sends a new team of losers I get the chance to start off fresh. I can be whatever I want to.

This one time I convinced a guy he was part of a reality show and he could win $200.000 cash if he fulfilled a simple assignment: Kill one of his teammates. He barely hesitated before shooting the person I pointed to. Of course that was against the rules so shortly after he had to die himself. Newcomers don't know the rules so they don't know about the bombs in our heads.

And why should I tell them? The rules are so simple it's ridiculous: Kill the target before the countdown runs out, don't leave the battle field, come back alive and get points. If the countdown reaches zero before the enemy is dead you lose all the points you've gathered before – a lesson I learned the hard way. If you kill anyone else or leave the battle field, or do anything else to upset Gantz, you die.

So when his head burst and shards of skull fell at my feet everyone stared at me in shock and disbelief as I chuckled quietly at the sight.

People are monsters and I'm a child born into this generation. It's not like anyone helped me back then. It's not like anyone raised a finger to help my dad. So don't you dare blame me. Don't you dare take away my fun. I'm allowed to enjoy myself.

I haven't made the rules, I just obey them. I'm told what to do and I can't act against my orders. I kill when I'm told to kill and when I'm home and Gantz decides to send me on a mission, I don't have a choice.

Call me cruel, call me a monster. Call me sad and lost. It doesn't matter, because you don't dictate me my life.

I am Santana Lopez.

And this is Gantz.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please help me.

I never know when I'll be called back, so I tend to wear my suit under my normal clothes all the time. It's black and skin-tight, and the round devices, or "caps", on each joint can easily be hidden beneath a hoodie and jeans. The suit's fabric looks like leather, but it feels like cotton. It's actually a lot more comfortable than any other clothes I own, not to mention the abilities I gain once the devices start to work. When adrenaline pumps through my veins, a blue fluid in each cap starts to glow, my muscles grow and suddenly I'm capable of doing the impossible. I wish I could say I was invincible, but many victims who were wearing their suits when they died have proven this isn't the case.

No one ever asks me about my boots, or the stiff collar around my neck, or my gloves, which are the only pieces of my armour I'm unable to cover. No one really seems to pay attention to anything I do. Honestly, though, I prefer it that way.

And even if someone were to ask, what would I tell them? "Hi, my name is Santana. I died."

Not likely.

When the call happens I'm always alone. Gantz doesn't want to draw attention. I feel a tingle in my palms and the backside of my knees and my ears start to ring. The first time it happened I thought I was finally getting rid of this life (or life was getting rid of me, depending on which side you're on). I covered my ears with my palms and sunk to my knees in pain. I was such a weakling.

But after two years I've come to almost love the sound.

Out in the real world, I'm nobody. When I'm with Gantz at least I have a purpose, even if it's just temporarily. For someone who's never had any guidance before, clear orders are a welcome change. I know that Gantz doesn't actually care about me, but no one else ever has, so whatever. At least Gantz doesn't pretend to. Gantz never promises me anything.

Then the transmission begins. I'm being scanned from head to toe and it takes a couple of seconds before my whole body gets to my destination. I don't feel anything, but it's definitely weird having your feet in one room and your head in another. If I were any other teenager I'd probably freak out.

I can move freely while being transported, and when I kneel down, I can touch the wooden floor of Gantz' room while staring at my own apartment's carpet. It's such a weird feeling that I do it as often as possible. My gloved fingers will feel the little cracks in the wooden laminate while my eyes are fixed on the blue fabric on my own living room. It drives my poor brain crazy.

Before the transmission is complete, I stand up straight and grip my holstered gun, because I never know who will be in the room with me. A new day brings a new team, brings new challenges, brings a new chance to be entertained, to be killed, or to be set free.  _Atarashii asa ga kita_. **1**  A new morning has come.

Then I stand up and smirk when I see Gantz in front of me. The black orb is almost as tall as I am, and it's fascinating and threatening at the same time. Its surface is completely blank, but I know it won't stay this way. A new mission is about to begin and I start to feel light-headed. I'm definitely the competitive type and the atmosphere of the room works as a trigger. Once I'm there I'm ready to go. I can't wait for the game to start. I can't wait to face my enemy. My blood pumps faster through my veins, full of oxygen and I bounce a little on my toes.

Usually my competition is already there, but sometimes I'm lucky enough to witness their arrival. Those are the rare cases in which I can lean back against one wall, pull the hood over my face, and pretend to be invisible. Those people, sent freshly here from the real world, act exactly like the people out there: they ignore me. Death doesn't teach you anything. It doesn't even change you.

Their loss.

If I were a true reaper I might be able to count the souls that Gantz keeps sending me, but only the orb keeps track. "Gantz," I'll sometimes say, "show me those who've died," and their pictures appear on the sphere in a checkerboard pattern. Many of them I know, others I know I should know but only vaguely remember. And only two people on there actually mean something to me.

Looking at the dead helps me get my feet back on the ground when I'm becoming big-headed. I'm strong, but not invincible. It wouldn't take much, just one missed shot or one wrong step and I'd join the others on the display. I know there's a spot reserved for me at the bottom right, but I'm not planning on taking it. I come back alive from each mission because I'm too stubborn to die. There's something about the orb mocking me with that empty spot at the bottom right, that makes my blood boil. I'm not a loser. I'll show you.

The people Gantz summons are supposed to help me fight, but since they rarely do, I consider them obstacles at best, competition at worst. Whenever one of them kills a fiend, that's a fiend I don't get to kill, and points I don't receive.

Not that any one of them ever stood a chance against me.

When I arrive this time there's already a small group of people in the room. They're praying. I don't quite understand why, but people often pray when they see Gantz. As if an empty apartment with a giant black orb could seriously be some kind of limbo. I'm only eighteen and even I know better. Hell and heaven, they don't exist. And not everyone who dies reaches Gantz. Otherwise this place would always be crowded. Otherwise my dad would be in the database. But they still pray and desperately try hold on to what they've learned in life. I'm sure they've always been good Christians.

Right now there're only three people besides me in here. There's a blonde guy with a huge mouth who looks kind of goofy, but also kind of cute. He's kneeling next to an elderly woman, who's hugging what seems to be her grandson. They mumble random verses of the Bible, asking for answers and guidance.

I roll my eyes and take a few steps back to sit down against a wall. If that's my team there's no doubt I'll be the only one coming back. What a bummer, though. I'm in a good mood today so if anyone were to ask me about the gigantic black ball in the middle of the otherwise empty apartment I'd probably even tell them to wear their suits and prepare for battle. I'd tell them that they're not entirely dead yet, and that there's a chance for them to go back home. I might even show them how to use the weapons they'll be provided with soon.

But, of course, no one asks and I won't be volunteering my hard earned knowledge. I'm just a regular teenage girl. What do I know about anything?

Right?

As I let my back slide down against cold stone, my hood almost completely covers my face and I see another transmission starting. It's three people this time and only one of them is a girl. Brown hair and a set of dainty hands appear first, then feet and a torso. She's the first one to arrive and as soon as she's complete she pulls her skirt up and starts to cry, "Leave me alone!" She doesn't seem to have noticed where she is yet or what happened.

Then two tall guys follow and I recognize their kind immediately: They're bad. Not as bad as I am, but they've done bad things, too. Their leather jackets make them look like they're part of some gang and the look on their faces means trouble without a doubt. I look them over, half appraisingly, half amused. They're strong enough to stand a chance in the game, but I know for sure they'll gamble away all their luck by refusing to obey the rules. You can trick the police and talk yourself out of almost any trial, but there's no arguing with Gantz. Also, I sort of doubt these tough douche bags will put on something that basically looks like a black giant condom. What a waste.

The girl has stopped crying and realization flashes across her face. She uses the second she's arrived early to crawl away from the two guys, who are obviously threatening her. I'm a little curious what happened to the three of them, but not curious enough to ask. She's a little smaller than I am and her eyes are big and brown, but not as dark as mine.

She uses these eyes to seek help, and for some reason I can't explain at all, she thinks she's found it in me. When her arms clutch at my torso I try to push her away, but fail. She's whispering in my ear: "Please help me." and I can't shrug her off. Before I know what's going on I'm suddenly involved, because now the two guys approach me with a smirk.

"We're not dead."

"Awesome."

"So where were we?"

I can't believe them. Dead perverts are my favourite kind by far.

I feel eyes on me from across the room. "Great," I groan. Attention was the last thing I wanted. "Please help me," the girl repeats. And then, as if she'd read somewhere that people will be more likely to help if you make it personal, she adds: "I'm Rachel."

She won't let go so I get up. Not to help her, that's for sure, just to be able to turn my back. But once I'm up Rachel hides behind me, and the two guys get the idea that they have to get through me to get to her.

"Not a problem," one of them sneers. "Two girls will make it even more fun."

I hear the child in the elderly woman's arms whimper and the blonde guy is staring at me in shock. If he had any balls he'd already have come to help me. Instead he just sits there, giant mouth agape, waiting for a miracle to happen.

This sucks. Not only do I find myself the centre of attention, but apparently everybody now thinks I'm actually protecting the girl, which I'm totally not. She's fisting the fabric of my hoodie and has buried her face into my neck as she sobs. And then one of the guys touches my shoulder in an attempt to push me out of the way.

Big mistake.

I really don't care about Rachel. I don't care about if they rape her right in front of me and I certainly don't care about the stares from across the room. Let them all die, for all I care. I'd kill them myself if I was allowed to.

But no one touches Santana Lopez without permission.

"Keep your paws off me, pedo." I hiss through my teeth, which earns me a grin.

The look on his face changes from amusement to shock and finally to pain as I take his hand from my shoulder and squeeze. My suit goes to work, and as I grow stronger my grip tightens. It forces the guy to his knees as I hear a finger break, and he yelps and starts to wince. Is this the same guy who was about to attack a girl half his age and half his size? I can't believe people sometimes.

This thought urges me on even more. I want to wipe the rest of the grin off his face and show him how weak he is. I want him to beg me to kill him because that's what he would have done to me. So I crack a second finger and smirk at him with empty eyes. His friend doesn't come to help. Instead the little coward has taken a few steps back and is obviously looking for an exit. Too bad this room doesn't have any of those. There's no escape. These people - they're mine.

And I belong to Gantz.

The guy whose hand I've crushed is crying when I finally let him go. He got the message, but it's not like I'll have to deal with him for much longer anyway. Especially with two broken fingers he won't last long, and now that I know his "friend" isn't on his team, he's really got no one. Sucks to be him.

I almost want to applaud them on their awesome teamwork.

Rachel finally lets go of my hoodie and I turn around and shoot her a look that says, "I hate you," because I do. Instead she just lowers her head and whispers: "Thank you."

But she, too, apparently got the message and backs off, taking a few steps backwards before joining the blonde guy. I scowl, sit back down, and ignore all the looks everyone shoots me. My good mood is gone, and if someone were to ask me about Gantz now, I wouldn't tell them a thing.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Books and schedules and even his parents he couldn't beat, but the evil Gantz would send us into? 
> 
> Not a problem.

_A new morning has come, a morning full of hope._

Gantz sings.

I grin in the shadow of my hood as everyone else looks around in disbelief. Gantz might be cruel, but he also has a sense of humor. That song starts right before every mission and although it's us who are being taunted, I can appreciate the sarcasm.

The prayers stop.

"This is not what I imagined purgatory would look like," the blonde with the enormous mouth says as he stands. Rachel studies me silently. I pretend not to look and ignore the fact that her eyes are burning holes into me. Does she really think I meant to help her? Instantly I regret lifting a finger. I should've just stepped aside, ignored the guy who had touched me, and let him have his way with her. But now she's looking at me and my usual act doesn't work anymore. I'm not invisible. I can't pretend I'm nobody.

"I don't think we're dead." Rachel speaks up and straightens her blue plaid skirt. I raise my eyebrow at her. "I'm Jewish and you're obviously Christian," she adds. "If we were dead we wouldn't be here together. It's illogical." I almost burst into laughter. The tiny brunette stands there with wide nostrils as if she'd had the epiphany of the century and her knitted cardigan just emphasizes what a dork she really is. I don't know this girl, but she's hilarious. Right now I sort of like her, even if it's just because I find her entertaining. I seriously hope she'll talk more, just – please – not to me.

Rachel looks around to find out she didn't manage to impress anyone with her little speech. She huffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest. It tells me two things about her: First, she must have an incredibly big ego, which is especially amazing because second, she's obviously used to being ignored. The kid starts to sob quietly and the elderly woman looks up and replies: "Of course we're not dead."

The two tall guys just stand there silently, exchanging meaningful expressions, staring at Rachel before shooting me a look. They're obviously pissed and probably already planning their revenge. I'm not impressed and I let them know.

I show a half smile to prove I'm not afraid and the silent fight is settled. Gantz has taught me a few things and I'm aware of what a simple look can do to a person now. They turn around and take yet another step back. For now I've got them off my back. And later they're going to die.

Then the screen on the black ball appears. In green letters it reads the familiar words:

"Your lives have ended. What you do with your new lives is entirely up to me. That's the theory anyway."

Welcome to the party. Enjoy your stay as long as it lasts. This is Gantz.

Rachel's would-be-attackers glance at each other. I recognize that expression. They won't give up just like that. They won't let Rachel be and they won't accept their fate. They won't play by the rules and surrender to a black ball. Too bad for them, I guess.

You might think I was just the same when I got here and that something bad happened to make me realize I've got to take all orders without questioning them; that I was badass from day one. The truth is I wasn't like these sick bastards at all when Gantz first brought me here. I was a scared teenager, ready to do whatever she was told. Right from the start I never doubted Gantz or anyone else I was confronted with. I was scared to death and I learned everything I know by watching others try and fail.

There was this one guy, Nishi, who was a magnificent fighter. He could use the suit like no one else and he got up to 95 points before he was killed by a sonic wave that made his eyeballs burst. So close and yet so far.

Nishi was a mean one. He was only fifteen and just like me he was a loner. His dark eyes bore right through you and his smile was cold and dishonest. He was the perfect warrior. Well, almost.

Born into the video game generation, Nishi was obsessed with this opportunity to press the restart button to life and start over. Books and schedules and even his parents he couldn't beat, but the evil Gantz would send us into? Not a problem. In comparison to the bullying everyone suffers outside, a scratch from a sword doesn't really hurt at all. Out in the real world your reputation is your armor, and once it's broken it can never be repaired. One push in front of other kids, one laugh that was a little too loud and for the rest of your days you're a loser. Nishi had been a loser; I could see it in his eyes. And every enemy that crossed his way would have to pay for every time he'd been pushed into the lockers.

In here, your armor is your armor. There are no metaphors and all fights are real. Nishi had found his niche. He had found a way to shine, to feel superior for once. He enjoyed the game too much. Where life had made him bitter, his death had made him cruel.

Nishi wasn't a spitfire like me. He couldn't be provoked easily. He was calm and calculated and thought out every step carefully beforehand. But in the end even he had a weakness, and that cost him his life.

That weakness, unfortunately for both of us, was me.

At first I thought he was trying to help me. He taught me how to use the suit, and he taught me about how to use different weapons. But after I had learned the essentials, he would only let me kill minor enemies and claim the boss for himself. He thought he could use me as a spring-board and climb over me on his way to point one hundred. So he used me.

He used me and he played with me. In our very first battle together, my leg got cut off and I lay there for the rest of the mission, thinking I was going to die, thinking I would never walk again. I rolled around on the floor, crying in pain, watching my own blood as it pulsed out of the stump that used to be my calf.

When we were transported back into the room with Gantz, Nishi just laughed at my wide eyes as I was frantically examining my perfectly healthy leg. He kept me wondering for quite a while and only when amusement turned into boredom did he speak up: "As long as your heart is beating you'll be transported back. Once you get here you'll be fine."

It was shit like this which made me start to plot against him. Every time I realized he was playing with me, my anger grew stronger. Every time I had to learn a lesson myself that he should have taught me, I made a little note in my head.

I kept this to myself, though, and after his first obligatory attempts to seem annoyed by my presence, he actually started to form some sort of weird attachment to me, which was really obnoxious. I think in some sick way, he even considered me his friend.

I'll never forget the look on his face when he realized he was wrong.

The fiend opened its mouth to attack by unleashing the deadliest of screams, and Nishi, who had run into a trap, shot me a glance pleading for help.

I lowered my weapon and watched him die. It was quite satisfying, actually. Who did he think he was anyway? No one fucks with Santana Lopez. Not here. Not in the world of Gantz. In hindsight I have to admit: Nishi had been an outstanding teacher.

Too bad for you, Nishi. You almost made it home.

Instead you cried for your mommy. You cried that you were only fifteen. You cried that you didn't want to die. Then why did you?

A quick glance around reminds me that none of these losers will ever be able to survive their first mission. Another reason why I shouldn't have stood up against the bastards in the leather jackets: Rachel will die anyway. I've just postponed it for a short while. The shortest of whiles actually, because Gantz's display has already changed.

"Please kill this guy." it says.

"Please", I mumble. Very funny.

I sneak a peek at the screen to examine my target. It's a green-skinned boy with grass-like hair standing up from the top of his head. The description says: "Onions are enough for me." Oh Gantz, you never fail to bewilder me.

When I first came here I kept wondering what these creatures were and where they came from. "Aliens" sounds so science fiction and I was never a big fan of the genre, but in the end I decided to quit asking and just accept the term. All I care about is that they're uncollected points. What does it matter what they are?

The screen fades to black and the sphere opens on two sides, revealing an arsenal of mostly light weapons. There are shotguns, knives, grenades, tasers and katanas, but also a missile launcher, a flamethrower and even a chainsaw… pretty much everything a warrior's heart desires. But I leave them because my weapon of choice is already firmly strapped to my hip, ready to be ripped from its holster and fired.

There are also a bunch of suitcases with our names on them, but of course the other people in the room with me ignore them because they've noticed the man sitting inside the black sphere.

Nishi told me Gantz, the black sphere, runs on batteries. What he meant was that Gantz runs on this man's life. The mohawked man inside the sphere is naked and attached to a bunch of hoses and cables and he breathes into a cone. Sure, it looks kind of scary, but as long as he keeps sitting in there I don't really have a reason to care. My mission is to earn a hundred points and get the hell out of here.

I watch with growing amusement when the inevitable discussion starts up about who he is and where he came from and why they have to go kill a boy that looks as if he isn't even human.

Well, this much is clear: he isn't. And 'they' won't kill anything. I'll get the points. Oh and that guy in the sphere? He doesn't matter. Not that anyone bothers to ask me.

The blonde guy opens his gigantic mouth to speak as he holds up one of the suits. "Are we supposed to wear this?" What a stupid question. Rachel looks over to me and I roll my eyes and look away quickly. She says: "I'm not getting changed in front of everyone." The gang members smirk at her, but just for a second before turning their heads to me again. This is seriously starting to piss me off.

Go ahead. I won't stop you!

Just as I thought, the two guys don't even try putting on their armor and I consider asking Gantz to kill them right now, just to save some time.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the tiny dork forgot to bring a weapon.

I feel the familiar tingle in my palms and the transport begins. It’s way too soon for the others. None of them is prepared for the battle.

My stomach flips with excitement as I realize I’m being sent in first. My eyes are wide now and my mind’s awake. I watch my feet disappear. I’m cool and calm and satisfied now that my strategy is clear. I’ve been given a great opportunity.

I swipe the hood off my head and let my dark weave fall around my face as I stand up and shoot a last grin at Gantz. It’s one of my acts; not to impress the black ball, of course. It’s just for show. In the realms of Gantz I’m the HBIC. I’m dangerous. This last gesture of mine is a reminder not to come to close to me.

It usually keeps other people off my back.

The last thing I see is Rachel grabbing her suit and the two leather jackets each picking up a gun.

When I materialize nobody else is there yet. Quickly I press the cap on the right side of my neck to switch to camouflage mode, which effectively means I’m invisible to the naked eye.

I scan my surroundings and step back to stand against a wall. It’s dark and I’m still in Lima, the place I currently call home, which is unusual. Normally I’m sent to somewhere far away across the globe -- I’ve already fought on the Golden Gate Bridge, in a temple in Tokyo in the Amazonian jungle,  France, as well as the Australian outback -- so I’ve got to admit that I’m slightly disappointed that my latest trip won’t contain any sight- seeing. 

It’s actually not far from where I live and I’m suddenly extremely glad the battle arena is being secured for the duration of the fight. No one from the real world will be able to see what’s going on. I tried asking Nishi once how it works, but he just huffed and rolled his eyes at me. I’m fairly certain he didn’t know anything.

All I know is this: Besides us and our fiend there won’t be anyone around. No one will recognize me tomorrow. Some people might be wondering what happened to the Hummels’ garage and why the cars in this street are all demolished, but no one will be pointing fingers. I just hope that my apartment is outside the boundaries. I really can’t afford new windows.

As I stand back and wait I see Rachel materialize right next to me. She’s apparently gotten rid of her shoes, because I see white socks first, then two legs and – hold up – she’s almost naked. Finally she stands there in her black panties and a plain white t-shirt and I stare just long enough to make out a pair of well defined calves, slim thighs and, yea, ok, I admit it, perky breasts. She’s actually kind of cute and I almost blush.

There’s no time for such thoughts, though, and as I turn my head to regain my focus I can’t help but think that this was quite a clever move by her: she avoided exposing herself in front of her enemies and at the same time saved a lot of time by kicking off her clothes shortly before the transport.

When I turn back around she’s fully clothed again. The uniform fits her perfectly and emphasizes all the right places. But I also notice that I’ve got to take a part of my mental compliment back, because apparently the tiny dork forgot to bring a weapon. Instead she stands there with her t-shirt in one hand, obviously contemplating where to put it. I almost want to switch back to visible, grab the damn thing and toss it in one corner, but right before I can finish that thought the two leather jackets appear a few meters away and Rachel jumps behind a nearby car that’s parked on a sidewalk, stuffing the piece of clothing beneath it.

“Where is she?” one of the guys yells.

No, you moron, the real question is: Where is _it_? Why are they so obsessed with this girl when there’s an enemy to kill?

“Screw that”, the other guy basically comments on my track of thought and presses his damaged hand to his chest, “We can find the boss another virgin anytime.”

My eyes go wide at that last statement and as Rachel presses her hands over her mouth to suppress a sob I realize that these douche bags are members of a prostitution ring. Now I really have to make sure they don’t make it out alive. The chances that they would find me in the real world are small, but big enough to give me a reason to move apartments again if I need to. I can’t have those kinds of guys on my back.

“Where’s this boy we’re supposed to kill?”

Now we’re talking. Rachel is still hiding behind the car. She’ll probably be safe there for a while and considering her other options, she chose her position pretty well. Once she discovers the abilities of her suit she’ll be able to run, too; probably not fast enough to escape the enemy, but definitely fast enough to get away from the Jackets. Who knows, maybe she’ll actually make it through her first mission.

I hear quick steps approach and blondie runs right into my line of vision. At first I don’t see what he’s running from, but as soon as the onion boy becomes visible I understand. My fingers play with the grip of my gun. I know I’ve got to wait a little longer, though. In most battles I get exactly one shot and I’m not planning on wasting it by missing my target just because I got distracted by some asshole. I can’t do anything as long as the guys are around.  It’s a true test of my patience and I don’t have an awful lot of that.

The onion boy looks just as ridiculous as his picture. He’s about half my size and on any other night I’d laugh at him for wearing such a lame Halloween costume. His head is disproportionally huge and his shirt looks like he’s trying to copy Freddy Krueger. With calm tiny steps he walks towards the blonde guy just as he stumbles. Wow, pathetic.

And then things take a weird turn: The boy reaches his little hands out and exclaims proudly: “Onions are enough for me.” I blink a few times and my mouth falls open. This has to be the weirdest mission I’ve ever been sent on. When Gantz made me kill a bunch of religious statues I was slightly confused. When I had to hunt down a couple of commercial mascots it was quite irritating. But this tops them all. You might think that after all I’ve seen, nothing would surprise me, but you’d be wrong! Because here I am standing with my guard up next to a shivering girl (who is also my only potential teammate,) and the evil I’ve been sent to fight is a little green boy who just asked a threesome of strangers to give him some onions.

What the actual fuck?!

The Jackets exchange confused looks but it only lasts a second. Without further hesitation they draw their weapons. I start to scream “no”, because they’re about to shoot my target. As it turns out, though, I don’t have to do that as blondie jumps in the way.

“No!” he screams instead of me. “Aren’t you curious about what’s going on here? I mean, not long ago I got run over by a car and now I’m here and I’m just fine. Did nothing happen to you?” At this point he’s stretched out his arms to protect the onion boy who stands there and watches the scenario, just like me and Rachel. “Onions are enough for me.” he repeats. The Jackets stare at blondie with what I can only call utter surprise and I’m pretty sure I’ve got the same expression on my face. I’ve got to give to him -- blondie is ballsy… the stupid kind. I’m surprised he’s still alive.

 “I’m not shooting at some innocent boy, just because I’ve been told to do so by a big black ball. I don’t know where you guys come from, but that’s not what an Evans does.”

After a long moment, the inevitable happens; Evans is pushed aside and the Jackets fire simultaneously at the onion boy. To their surprise – not to mine – nothing happens. They examine their guns while blondie stares from his spot on the ground a meter away. What they don’t know is this: The weapons we’ve been provided with aren’t regular weapons. 

The X-Guns, as I call them, are about the same size as a semi-automatic pistol, but the barrel has four extendable protrusions that spread out like an ‘X’ when the weapon is fired, hence the name. Also, the muzzle reminds me a little of a camera lens.

Looks aren’t the only the thing that makes these guns special, though. On the rear of each weapon is a little screen that helps you aim, but especially comes in handy once you find out there’re actually two triggers you can squeeze separately. The top trigger will lock the target; that’s what the screen is really for. Once a target is locked, you can use both triggers to fire the gun in any direction and still hit your enemy. I had some fun shocking team members by pretending to aim at them and firing my gun when in reality I had already locked on to something entirely different. The upper trigger also has an X-ray function which is how I found out we weren’t fighting humans. I’m not a doctor like my dad, but I’m fairly certain human skeletons don’t look like… that.

What the Jackets are currently experiencing is a function I don’t quite understand the use of: The five second delay.

So as they stare alternately at their gun and the onion boy I count to five and – BOOM. His arms and legs explode like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. It’s pretty gross, to be honest. There’re pieces of flesh everywhere and the boy’s torso falls with a splash into a puddle of blood. The Jackets and Evans are drowned in disgusting liquids and if I wasn’t used to it the smell of it all would be overwhelming. I hear a whimper which reminds of Rachel’s presence. She’s shut her eyes and cries silently. Well, at least she’s smart enough to stay put.

Then I hear something entirely different:

“You…can... you can have…my onions.”

God bless these aliens.

There were many occasions when I cursed how hard they were to kill. This is not one these moments, though. The onion boy is still alive, which means one thing: I still have my shot.

Before I can plan my next move, though, the Jackets aim again. And then something incredible happens: Evans decides to pull another heroic move and jumps in the way at the very last second. It’s too late, though, and the guy with the broken fingers pulls both triggers with his good hand. I gasp and count again:

One

Evans shakes his head. He’s scared.

Two

Where were you when they threatened Rachel?

Three

He keeps pressing his hands to his chest, examining his body. You have exactly two seconds left, blondie.

Four

He gulps and says: “I…”

Five

Out of reflex I turn my head and only hear his torso being ripped to pieces as his remnants hit the ground. Rachel is shaking violently now. It’s her first fight, well, mission, and I can hardly blame her, but roll my eyes nonetheless. I’ve got my principles after all.

Then I hear another shot and when I look up my fear has been realized: The onion boy is dead and I’ve lost my points. Unbelievable. It was such an easy prey and I let it slip through my fingers! I groan before I can help myself, and Rachel looks into my direction and furrows her eyebrows. When exactly did I become so stupid?

Thankfully, though, Evans’ death seems to have been traumatizing enough for her to ignore me for now. She peeks up from behind her shelter just in time to witness what happens next: Jacket one has broken one of Gantz’ rules. He looks up and asks: “What’s that noise?” But he never receives an answer.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boom.

"Crap!" the remaining Jacket calls out. "Matt!"

Seriously? Why do you care now that he's dead? Just a good twenty minutes ago you watched as I broke your buddy's hand without showing any intention to help him out. You've lost your right to mourn him now.

As he stands there, pondering what to do next a new thought enters my mind: This  _has_  been too easy. There's no way that a total noob like him could defeat any true enemy Gantz sends. Then I remember falling for this trick a couple of times before: The first few enemies are just bait. They're easy to defeat or, if Gantz is in a bad mood, quite tough. And just when you think you've made it, the real fiend is revealed and all you can hope is that you haven't wasted too much energy already.

Especially this one time I saw one of my companions' devices break after a one on one fight against a gross alien. He had exhausted his suit and his time was up as soon the alien's older brother showed up. Because the suit is not unbreakable - It can withstand normal gunfire and softens the impact of any punch, but if you want to destroy it you basically just have to press your thumb into the devices hard enough to make them break and let the blue liquid leak. Admittedly, one would have to be extraordinarily strong to be capable of doing that, know about the suit's weak spot and be quick enough to manage to poke your finger into the right places, but it's entirely possible.

Bait. I should have thought of this earlier. Two years and I haven't learned a thing.

Before I get the chance to beat myself up too much, something rolls to my feet and I recognize it immediately as the elderly woman's head. Her eyes are missing and I shudder inside, but definitely not as much as Rachel shudders on the outside. She sits there, staring in shock as tears run down her cheeks. Sometimes when I see these newcomers I wonder if I was ever that young.

I refrain from kicking the head away. Instead I listen carefully and grab my gun and get ready to run. It's about time I become a little more active. Being a bystander hasn't gotten me to where I am today.

Slow firm steps echo through the darkness and the remaining Jacket's head jerks up. His face freezes in sheer terror and he takes off. The clicking of heavy boots on asphalt becomes quicker and quicker and it only takes a few seconds until – whatever that is - has overtaken the guy and punches its fist into his back. Well,  _through_  his back, to be precise. I hear a gross smacking sound as it withdraws its arm from the dead body and leather hits the street. He never stood a chance.

It's my turn now and I take aim. I know I've got to switch to visibility before I can shoot, but I can lock on to the [target](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7948543/5/A-New-Morning) beforehand. I point my gun and pull the upper trigger as a hint of satisfaction runs through my body. The creature is tall and walks on two feet like a human. Its strength and speed are magnificent. I bet I'll be rewarded with more than a lousy few points. Maybe I'll even get the last nine I need. The X-ray on my screen displays a perfect resemblance of the onion boy, just larger. A fleeting thought crosses my mind that we're facing a family of aliens here, but I don't have time for pity. That's not part of my orders. It's not part of the game.

I raise my gun and just as I'm about to click the device on my neck, I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye. Rachel has stood up and is clenching her fists as her eyes are scanning her surroundings. Just what is she searching for? Only when I see the gun next to the onion boy do I understand.

This will cost me my precious points if she succeeds, which is unlikely, but I decide to stand back just a little longer. I'm too curious; I want to see this all unfold.

Rachel finally spots the weapon and hesitates a few more seconds. Her arms are stretched out down towards the ground and she's whispering something I'm unable to understand. Then she finally nods tersely and runs. She's got a pretty good start and I watch her and the creature alternately, waiting for something to happen. Rachel has almost made it to her goal when the fiend turns around and roars loudly enough to shake the wall behind me. To my surprise she doesn't stop, though and then it happens: The devices on her suit start to glow blue and her movements become faster. I watch her muscles grow as she slides right through the remnants of human and alien flesh and grabs the gun on her way back up.

I feel my jaw drop as I watch. Was all her whining and crying before just an act? Without further hesitation she raises the gun, aims at the fiend, and pulls the trigger.

Trigger. Singular.

She's pulled the lower trigger and does it again a couple of times. Of course nothing happens, nothing except for the fiend approaching her angrily now and Rachel examining her weapon in a panic.

For a second I contemplate if I should let her die, but she's been too entertaining. That stunt she pulled was hysterical and I want to keep her around a little longer. So I click the device on my neck and squeeze both triggers.

One

The fiend draws closer to the brunette.

Two

She's given up on the gun and is now crawling backwards.

Three

They both have spotted me and I smirk.

Four

It's coming towards me now, but I don't have a reason to be afraid anymore. It's too late.

Five

Boom.

Rachel shrieks as she's covered in guts. "Eeeewww!" is the last thing I hear before the transport begins.

And "Eeeeewwwww!" is the first thing I hear as soon as we're back in the apartment. I chuckle and give her an almost friendly clap on the back. "Get used to it." I say and immediately regret my words because they imply she'll be fighting with me again, which was never the plan. Quickly I straighten my face and turn to Gantz as Rachel checks her body. She's clean now, of course. Leftovers from the battlefield are never transported back with us.

"Where's my shirt?" she asks and I can't help but chuckle again.

"Well, if you ever happen to visit Lima again you'll find it tucked under that car where you left it." I deadpan.

"You're from Lima, too?"

I stiffen. Today is really not my day and I'm beginning to think that I've completely lost my mind. How else could I explain that I just revealed where I live?

I ignore her question, but it's too late. "I wanted to thank you for earlier. You saved my life twice today and I owe you for that." She shrugs slightly and I pretend not to have heard. She apparently knows better, though. "I know you didn't do it on purpose and I don't blame you. No one's ever really liked me." I shoot her a quick glance, because this last sentence actually gets to me. "And no one's ever helped me, either. But listen; if we stick together we could…"

Thankfully Gantz interrupts her.

"Time for the points."

The display lights up and the familiar green letters appear again.

"What is this all about?" Rachel asks and I ignore her.

"Rachel Berry. Zero points. Quit crying and bring your clothes next time." The brunette besides me huffs. Apparently that's her trademark. "I'd like to object to this kind of…" I punch her side to make her shut up. She's distracting me.

"Santana Lopez. Four points. Quit staring at the dork's boobs."

"WHAT THE FUCK?" My face turns crimson and I see Rachel's eyes go wide. I turn to face her and shake my head, but she's too busy crossing her arms in front of her chest to even notice me.

Eventually I give up. It's Gantz's humor and I've already heard all kinds of lame jokes about all kinds of stupid people, including myself.

It's the first time I've been referred to as a pervert, though. Thanks a lot, Gantz.

What really matters at the end of the day is that I'm still stuck here. Gantz doesn't let me go. I'll have to fight in yet another mission. Hopefully my last one.

"…So…what are we supposed to do now?" Rachel asks and when I look at her I can see that her embarrassment, too, has vanished. "What are these points good for?"

"Maybe I'll tell you next time." I say and the look she gives me indicates that she doesn't want to come back. That's too bad, because she won't have a choice.

In a last fit of politeness I add: "When you hear the ringing tone in your head, grab your suit and your weapon." She nods shyly and whispers another "Thank you".

A door becomes visible and Gantz quiets down. Clicking the device on my neck again I say: "For now, go home."

I've been a good person today. It sucks.


	6. Chapter 5

I gag.

I cough.

I cry silently as my voice breaks.

I'm determined to go through with my decision.

I flail.

I wonder.

Dad, I understand now.

The shadows crawling at my feet pull me down and for a second I'm scared. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt at all.

Eventually I give in.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's sitting three seats away to my right and just like me she doesn't care.

It feels surreal coming back, walking the streets of the world I used to live in. I know the other place, Gantz, is not my home, but out here in broad daylight on my way to school I can't help but feel misplaced.

I've always despised this machinery we call society. Like chicken in a laying battery we function in sync with the beat of our schedules. We get up to the sound of our alarm. We shower, dress ourselves, some of us eat, others just take a coffee and a cigarette.

Two years ago my life was a war. I can't remember a time in which I ever felt comfortable in my own skin. I hid in bushes, closets and the basement. I hid myself away, because I was too afraid to fight. I never hated anyone personally. I hated what was happening to me. And I knew there was no one else to blame but myself. I was a coward.

Now that I know death is war I've learned to hate people. Gantz has taught me all the emotions I wasn't able to feel when I was alive. I've learned to blame others. I've learned to protect myself. I've learned that being on my own isn't the worst that can happen. I'm not a coward any longer. I'm a fighter.

On my way to class I meet all these people and I can't tell if it's really me who's changed and if they always looked like this. So many people cross my way each day and no one looks at me. Whenever our eyes meet they look away in an unavailing attempt to become invisible. They don't want to exist in my presence. They cannot stand the thought of sharing space with another person at all. So they avoid each other's sight. They communicate as little as possible through words as well as gestures. They duck their heads and hide just like I used to.

Busses and malls are always packed. It doesn't disturb me anymore the way it used to. I'm the only person who matters now so why should other people bother me? But on some days the air is filled with rage and they lose their temper easily. Instead of asking to move they start pushing and pulling at each other's clothes and bump elbows into ribs. "Ouch!" you can hear from girls who don't fight back. "Watch out, asshole." is more common among guys. Sometimes someone pushes back and that is when it becomes interesting.

It always depends a little: on the level of rage, first and foremost; on the impact of the push, of course. Sometimes for a second – and this is my favourite part – you can see something flicker in the eyes of the attackers. Their grey faces match their grey work attire, but in this one second when they've met someone equally as fucked up as themselves and understand they've found a way to let some of their suppressed aggression bubble to the survive, their eyes become piercing. I love that expression on peoples' faces, because just for that one second before they fight or fold, they are like me. They enjoy their power. They contemplate attacks and they struggle to assert themselves, although no one really cares, or because no one really cares. And suddenly I'm not so lonely anymore. I'm among equals. And because of my experience with Gantz, among equals I'll always be superior.

Also, it's quite entertaining to see a couple of adults beat the shit out of each other for no reason.

Gantz has shaped me. I see things differently now, crisp and clear and through the death I'm confronted with and through the hundreds of people I've witnessed fight and scream and hide and die I've gained a greater understanding of life. Reading people has become easy. Maybe they know. Maybe that's also a reason why they duck their faces and stare holes into the ground whenever my eyes challenge them to look at me. They don't want to be understood. They just want to get through their day and vanish back into the safety of their homes. They want to be left alone.

Every now and then a stranger's glance hits me and we make eye contact. It's like magnetism, because every eye I get to look into resembles mine. Those are lost souls, about to accompany me in death sooner or later. Sadness radiates from their faces like a dark halo and we are sucked into each other's misery. I hold the stare as long as possible. The teenager in me just wants to belong. And if sadness and the prospect of death are what connects me to people then so be it. I take what I can get. I bathe in their desperation and sometimes they plead with me. They're asking for help without asking at all. Especially kids of my age. There're plenty of them and I meet at least one of them every day. They don't want to live, but they are too afraid to die. They keep existing, going through the motions, floating through their day until the darkness swallows their tears at night. And I wonder: Why did no one ever see my pleas? Why does no one help these children? Isn't their innocence worth protecting?

Of course, once they reach me, I won't be helping them, either. I'm no one's good Samaritan.

I've transferred school a couple of times since my death. Not that anyone even notices if I'm there, but I cannot stand the sight of the people who never cared about me. I died right under their noses and no one even acknowledged my coming back. No one even knows I'm not alive anymore. I didn't expect anyone to show up at my dad's funeral, but a "sorry" would have been nice.

The basement, of course, is another reason to never look back.

My current destination: McKinley, Lima. It's as good as any other place, but in a small crappy ragged up town like this one no one will raise a fuss about the little bitch that I am. I can blend in with the other scumbags. In a town full of losers another "daytime lantern" won't stand out. Even if the people here will get suspicious, even if some newspaper should carry a story about a girl who miraculously jumps whole flights of stairs and smashes walls with her bare hands (though I'd never be that dense), even if anyone should ever notice me, it would never leave this place. People gossip until they find something more interesting, like a rat with two heads or another crop circle or something. I'll be safe here, undisturbed. And once I'm noticed I'll just move again.

Math.

As always I sit at my desk and pretend to be the dreamy kid in the back row. No one will bother me here. I let my dark hair fall into my face in order to create a shadow shell and teachers as well as classmates ignore my existence. They are occupied with more important things and people, like this Finn guy, for example. He's the quarterback here and apparently a golden boy. I wonder what everybody sees in him. He looks pretty average to me. I'm not even sure anyone actually likes him. It's more like some people agreed on that he's dope and now it doesn't matter what he does anymore. If you're popular, then that's that. Admittedly, a part of me wants to poke his dimples and pinch his cheek and give him a cookie every time he shows his dopey smile.

I stare out of the window or in my book and pretend to read. I doodle into my scrapbook. Not the hearts and unicorns other kids fill their papers with. My mind is full of death. Poetry has never been my style and I'm not a crazy talented artist, but the lines I get on to the sheets unmistakably form silhouettes of the unspeakable. Sometimes they resemble people I've met and it scares the shit out of me. Quickly I'll tear the piece of paper out of my notebook and fling it across the room. Those drawings cannot exist. If they did, that would mean these images would occupy my mind. I would be thinking about others. I can never let that happen.

The clicking noises of the pens around me remind me of the clockwork I'm trapped in. It's only a matter of time until I'll be called back and I'll have to fight again. Fight without any real reason, surviving being my only aim; which is kinda hysterical, considering two years ago I had the opposite in mind.

The formulas on the blackboard make all the sense in a world that doesn't matter to me anymore. They don't matter to most kids in this classroom as no one I've ever met really wants to study math when they grow up; if they're lucky enough to grow up that is. Yet they copy every line with the intention of learning them by heart, just because they're told to do so.

"We don't learn for the teachers or the school, we learn for life." As if life would give a fuck about As and Fs. Ratings are only important to people. We compare ourselves to each other, because apparently we can only be someone if we're better than someone else. "Life" won't love you less if you fail a test or don't get that job you applied for. Maybe your parents will.

Of course, Gantz keeps rating me, too. It's a part of the cruel game, a reminder that my life is not my own. Gantz replaces teachers, parents, grades and schedules. My life never belonged to me, but no one ever admitted owning me. "You can be anything you want." Bullshit. At least Gantz also rewards me every now and then. For every creature I kill I receive points. A hundred points get me a treat.

I let my gaze wander through the classroom as the teacher's voice becomes a muffled background noise. I like observing people as they're doing nothing special, just being there. It's fascinating, really. Some of them are true characters. I can recognize their kind by just looking at their clothing style and haircut or by the expression on their faces. Gay, straight, Goths, Emos, Punks, Jocks, Trogs. When I was still alive I didn't really fit in anywhere. Sure, I tried out for the cheerleading squad, but I never got in. Once upon a time I, too, cared about popularity. That's part of why I understand the concept so well.

Others haven't found themselves and are easily overlooked because of that. I never overlook them, though. They are the saddest of them all. Their clothes don't tell me anything and their true identities lay hidden way back behind dark pupils. Whilst others express themselves through necklaces and ties and shoes and make-up those lost souls don't even know what they want to say. They don't have stories to tell, yet. They're insecure and they never have friends. Again I can only shake my head about how obvious the disaster is. They don't cut themselves so they don't deserve to be heard. They cry silently in their bedrooms and do their best to shine during the day, but are really never seen. Teachers, parents, peers, everyone who should love them, doesn't. Not enough to grab them by the arm and guide them through the toughest years of their lives.

We're too busy with As and Fs to stop and listen to those silent little sobs that emerge from between lockers or from inside bathroom stalls. Nishi could tell you a lot about those.

I let my gaze wander and I know no one will ever look back at me. No one has ever caught me studying people in the classroom. There's so much to learn here. Not what the teachers tell you. Screw them, actually. People are such interesting creatures and learning about them helps me survive. Individuals have strategies and characters go by a pattern. A glimpse into their faces can tell me if they are the offensive type, the sneaky attacker, the scaredy-cat. Ambush, run and hide or go with your head first through the wall. They all could learn these precious lessons if they'd just pay attention. But no one ever really does.

And then blue eyes find mine and I startle. She's sitting three seats away to my right and just like me she doesn't care. Her notebook is full of doodles, hearts and unicorns, and her cat-like blue eyes pierce me like she understands. No one has ever looked at me like that, open and fearless. She doesn't want to hide. She's curious. She knows who she is and she looks right into my mind before I can close the curtains. One second is enough and I'm already lost, sucked into her presence, unable to turn my head, unable to protect myself. I don't want this, but it happens. I try to fight it, try to shut her out, but it's too late. The doors are open and she knows me. Suddenly no one else is there anymore. The teacher's muffled voice has faded away entirely and the clicking of the pens has stopped. She's sitting there across the room and although I should be the one studying her it's the other way around. Her gaze lies calm on my face, traces the lines of my expression as all blood is drained from my cheeks and I start to freeze. She doesn't tell me anything about herself. Is she a friend or a fiend? She must be one of those, because unlike everybody else, she matters.

She smiles and turns her head and disappears again, blending back into the background. I wipe my eyes and wonder if I just imagined it, if I'm making her up, but blonde hair whips around a second time. "Could I borrow your notes from last week?" she asks the kid sitting next to her.

I don't know who she is, but I'm drawn to her.

What does she want from me?


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm fine.

Staring at the ceiling has become my one and only hobby. It's actually not a real hobby, more like a habit, or better yet: the only thing left to do when I can't fall asleep.

It's raining heavily tonight and my heart thuds against my rib cage in a foolish attempt to match the threatening rhythm from water splashing loudly against the window of my bedroom, which is my only room. I'm only eighteen years old and against common belief even the undead have to eat and rest occasionally. My dad must have gambled away his [money](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7948543/8/A-New-Morning), because there isn't any inheritance to live on, which forces me to work part time after school. This one room apartment is lousy, but it's the only thing I can afford and it fulfils its purpose. I'm only a visitor anyway.

Oftentimes – and especially in nights like this – I wonder why I even bother going to school. I could have graduated during the time I spent with Gantz. Instead I fail on purpose and even though I know I'll eventually be expelled, I can't stop. I guess I keep going back, because deep down I know I can't move on. These missions I'm being sent into, they usually don't last longer than an hour or two and sometimes I have weeks during which I'm not called back at all. Still my mind is always fighting aliens. It's like the black ball keeps telling me: My life has ended. What I do with my new life is entirely up to Gantz.

Every morning my reflection tells me that I haven't changed. Well, my eyes sorta have and I swear my expression has suffered a personality shift. I'm not the old Santana anymore. I'm not the loser from back then, the girl who was so sad and desperate, so lonely and lost that she would throw her life away. I'm a warrior now. But I don't age. To others I must still look exactly like I did two years ago.

On nights like this one I lie awake and stare at the ceiling because I'm unable to sleep. I've tried counting sheep and aliens and people. I've tried singing lullabies, but the only song that keeps popping up in my head is the song from that Japanese morning show I hear before every mission. Sometimes I doze off just to be startled awake again.

I close my eyes and blue lightning is fired into my direction.

One

I wonder what my last thought would be.

Two

I wonder who this blonde girl from school is.

Three

What does she want from me?

Four

I'll never be free. I'll never have anything.

Five

A knock on the door keeps me from bursting into a million pieces.

I open my eyes and groan when I see that it's only 2 a.m.. What if I'm called back tomorrow? What if I'm called back tonight? I won't have slept a [single](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7948543/8/A-New-Morning) minute and I'll be dead in no time.

Maybe I'll be too tired to care.

There's a second knock on the door. I lift the covers and don't rush as I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and scuffle to the door, my limbs as heavy as my head.

When I open up a crack I see a shivering Rachel standing outside. She bites her lip and doesn't dare to look me in the eye. She's still wearing her suit and the cardigan she apparently picked up from Gantz' apartment before she left. Nervously she fumbles with her fingers and I impatiently rub my eyes. "What?" I snap and forget to ask her how she knows where I live. Did she follow me here?

"I know your name from the black ball..." she begins. Of course. There aren't too many people with the name Santana Lopez in Lima and unfortunately I had to register my address for school. Once again I regret letting slip which town I'm from. "I'm really sorry if I woke you up and I apologize for disturbing you at this late hour..." she stops again and I almost want to smack her and force her to say her piece just so I can return to bed. It's not the most comfortable, because it's basically just a mattress on the floor, but it's a lot cozier than standing here barefoot at the open door. Rachel is soaked despite her suit and her face is red. She's freezing.

"I was wondering if you would let me stay the night?" she whispers finally.

At first I think I misheard her. But she turns her head in order to avoid my eyes and continues: "I don't have anywhere to go."

Well, if that's all the answer is simple: "No." I shake my head and slam the door into her face. What the fuck is she thinking?

"Please. I wouldn't have come here if I had anyone else," I hear her beg through the door. At least she's polite enough to not just walk in, which would absolutely be possible even without the suit. The piece of wood separating us is nothing more than a joke of a door. I'm lucky that I don't own anything that's worth stealing. Any burglar would be extremely disappointed to have wasted the effort breaking in.

Still I don't really care about the brunette outside so I fetch a glass from my cupboard and fill it with tap water. "Santana." Unbelievable. "I know you have no reason to help me and you've already helped me, despite that. I just don't know where else to go." There's a pause, which doesn't last long. I take a sip of water and it runs cold down my throat. I frown, because it's actually a little too cold for my taste. "I can't go back home. They killed my parents."

So? My parents are long dead, too. My dad died shortly before me and my mom passed away right after my birth. Why should I be helping this girl now? I'm managing to get along just fine without my parents. When dad was pushed on the tracks of that subway and he fell unconscious, there was no one willing to help him. The newspapers later said it had been an accident, but I don't fall for shit like that.

I know he didn't have any enemies. He was just an Average Joe, just some doctor in New York. I know that no one had a reason to plot against him, but who's stupid enough to fall on the tracks?

Sure he had suffered from depression ever since I can remember. Yes, he had quit therapy and refused taking medication. "They just want to get into my brain." he said. Strange words from a doctor. But he had me and I loved him. Even though I never really had him, he always had me.

So the only explanation that's makes sense is that he was pushed. And no one came to his aid. I truly despise society.

"I saw them die." Rachel starts a new attempt. "I know you probably don't want to hear this and I promise you we don't even have to talk at all. I'll cook for you and clean and rub your feet. I'll do anything. Just let me stay."

She's a liar just like me.

And she's extremely persistent. I doubt she'll let me sleep if I leave her outside. "One night." I tell myself.

I open the door and eye her up. "You'll shut your blabber mouth and you'll let me sleep." She nods and presses her lips together before stepping in with a shy smile on her face.

When she sees the carpet and realizes how soaked she really is she takes off her cardigan and awkwardly tiptoes around in an attempt to find s a spot to stand on without dripping on my floor.

I watch her for a couple of seconds and can't decide whether I'm still annoyed or amused. "For god's sake," I finally mumble and start search through my closet to toss a pair of pajama pants, a t-shirt and a towel into her direction. "You can go take a shower if you like." I clench my teeth and contemplate if I should really add this next sentence: "And don't leave your suit lying around. You never know when you'll need it." She'll just be clinging to me anyway. And hey, I wanted her around, remember?

Rachel nods and it doesn't take long until I hear the splashing of water not only against my window but also against bathroom tiles. I find it hard to believe that I now have a roommate and such a dorky one, too. I lie back down and frown when I realize I'll have to leave my clothes on now. Normally I prefer to sleep naked with my suit lying right next to my mattress. Even in my sleep I'm always ready to fight.

The blanket is still warm when I slip beneath it, which eases my nerves a little.

Just a few minutes later Rachel re-emerges and of course she can't keep quiet. "Thank you," she whispers for what seems to be the 51st time. "Whatever," I reply and close my eyes. A few more minutes pass and when I don't hear her move I realize she's still standing next to my mattress. "I don't have a couch," I mumble. "Just grab the pillows lying around." I use them instead of chairs. Pretty much everything in my apartment takes place on the floor. "And there should be a blanket in the top drawer of that dresser over there." I don't even make an effort to point at the piece of furniture.

She does as she's told and a few more minutes pass. But just as I'm about to pass out she speaks again: "I was shot." I don't care. "We were all shot. I was kidnapped and they killed my dads." Liar. I can hear it in your voice. It rings in every word you speak. I don't care. "It all happened so fast. I was brought to this warehouse and I think they were going to sell me." She swallows audibly. "And all I remember is covering my ears and hoping I'd die. And then I think I did." I hear her sob. She's quite a cry-baby. "If we're dead, Santana, then where are we, really?" I groan into my pillow and pull the blanket over my head, demonstrating my lack of intention of answering her. Even if I had an answer I wouldn't just tell her. "Shut up already, will you?" Unfortunately my attempt to yell at her is interrupted by a yawn and I don't sound as angry as I intended to. I really should be sleeping already.

The room falls silent yet again and again I'm about to doze off when I hear her rolling around on the floor. She groans and stirs and sighs. "If the floor is too uncomfortable for you, you can still go back outside," I comment. "No, I'm fine," she replies immediately and stills her movement, but only for a short while before she starts to roll around again. When she finally bumps into the dresser and squeals "Ouch!" it's the last straw. I ponder kicking her out or telling her to go sleep in the bath tub. But both options just mean she'll be sneezing all through our next mission. Imagining having this walking alarm system being tied to my apron strings I roll my eyes. Rachel Berry with a cold would be the death of both of us.

"Fine," I yell into the darkness. "You can come here sleep on the mattress with me, but quit being such a pain in the ass." I swear I hear her smile into the darkness and not even three seconds pass until a cold set of feet finds mine. "And keep your freezing limbs to yourself. I'm not your hot water bottle." She withdraws her feet, but ignores my other demand: "I wish I could repay you somehow for everything you're doing for me." I hear my pulse pound hard in my temples. She's obviously not the type of girl who'll ever shut up. I prefer living in my own world, by myself. She's also in her own world, but unfortunately her world includes interfering with that of others. And then I flinch, because she reaches over and starts rubbing my stomach. "I saw you stare at me and it's ok. You can touch me if you want to." My eyes pop open and I blush immediately. "No!" I exclaim. "Why would you even..." but she interrupts me and sounds almost sad when she whispers: "I don't have anything else to give you."

I smack her hand away and grip the corner of my pillow. This can't be happening. Come tomorrow, come the next mission, I'll definitely have to find a way to get rid of her. When she sobs into my back, though, I hear myself say: "If you keep up being this easy you won't survive long out there. Work on your guard." She nods against my spine and yet again I can't believe I'm giving her such a valuable lesson.

Something's wrong with this girl. Something's wrong with the girl at school. Something's wrong with me. After Quinn died I promised to myself I'd never let anyone close again. Yet here I am, with a tiny dork wrapped around my waist, thinking of blue eyes piercing me.

Two years have passed since my first battle and I've never felt this weak before. I've got a bad feeling in my gut that something huge is about to happen.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right now the line between pity and hatred blurs more than ever.

When I open my eyes the scent of pancakes fills the air. I take a deep breath and inhale as much of this sweet dream as possible.

When I was little my dad would make me pancakes before school. That was on the rare occasions when he was actually home, of course.

I'd always create a huge mess and he would have to clean the kitchen after breakfast. Not once did he yell at me for that. Not once did he complain or even make a comment. He'd just sit across the table, smiling, and watch me try to eat my pancakes without ruining my shirt.

I succeeded only very occasionally.

But my dad is dead so my brain must be making this up, digging up a happy childhood memory to let me start the day in a good mood. I can absolutely appreciate that.

"You're awake," a very familiar voice practically squeals into my ear and I remember.

Rachel is standing next to my mattress now and I blink a few times in the hope she'll disappear somehow. She doesn't.

Instead she smiles widely at me and it's only then that I see the tray in her hand and realize the smell filling the air is real. "I made breakfast. I hope you like pancakes," she says before kneeling down and handing me the tray.

For a moment I'm overwhelmed by this gesture, but then I remember myself and keep my face from turning soft. She does, after all, owe me.

"Thanks," I mumble, sticking my fork into the stack. "You should eat, too." Then I see she's still wearing pajama pants and add: "And put on your suit. I told you not to let it lie around." She nods tersely and disappears into the bathroom. I take a few bites of my breakfast. It's fantastic. I'll never let her know but these pancakes are the shit. My usual breakfast consists of a roll I [buy](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7948543/9/A-New-Morning) on my way to school and some fruit I eat as I walk down the hallway before my first class and I almost – almost – drool as I examine the stack in front of me. I take another bite and carefully roll the slice around in my mouth, let it linger on my tongue. Maybe I can drag Rachel through just one more mission and have her killed later.

While I'm still contemplating which would be more satisfying - watching her being ripped into pieces or having her making me breakfast more often - Rachel re-emerges from the bathroom. She's wearing her suit now and the tight material wraps her tiny figure perfectly, makes her even look a little less dull and emphasizes her… "You can't go out like this, though. People will stare." I comment without stopping to chew on a piece of one of the most delicious pancakes I've ever eaten. She looks at me blankly and replies: "But I don't have any other clothes."

Of course. I get up with a sigh. Cozy times are over and the day has started. Impatiently I search through my dresser. "Here." I hand Rachel a pair of jeans, a dark blue hoodie and a belt, because the jeans will surely be too big for her. She slips them on and pulls the hoodie over her head and I bite back a giggle. She looks hilarious. It's not even the clothes themselves, it's more the way she's wearing them. As she walks a few steps around to get used to the feeling (really, has she never worn jeans before?) I can't help but think that what she does can barely be considered walking at all. It seems more like she's trying to float.

I run my palm over my face in an attempt to wipe that image from my mind. Not a chance.

"This is quite comfortable in comparison to my usual attire. I may look like a boy now but I do see the advantage of having..." I almost doze off as she speaks so I turn my attention back to my pancakes instead: the one thing about Rachel that isn't absolutely obnoxious.

.

Rachel decides not to go back to school, which is understandable. It also means that I'll have the day off. When I'm in the real world I don't necessarily want to be reminded of Gantz. Empty eyes from strangers that cross my way and the dullness of reality are hard enough to bear. Having someone trotting along with me, talking to me about the missions... that would be too much to handle. I'm seriously afraid I'd lose my temper and push her in front of a car or maybe even just shoot her. The battles I've got to fight, they belong in Gantz's world. I don't carry them around with me here.

I eat my lunch outside. When I was still alive and scared of everything and everyone, I tried to play their sick games. But nowadays I don't have to care about popularity and I don't have to sit alone at a table while the other kids stare at me for being a loser. The only rules I've got to obey now are Gantz's and he's not here. Out here no one can hurt me. I can choose to drop out of any other games and just enjoy a little fresh air.

"Aaaaaahh!"

A scream interrupts my train of thought and I look up from my sandwich. It's coming from the direction I was walking towards and I find my feet carrying me forward. Pure curiosity, I think.

As I chew on a bite of my lunch I find myself standing by the dumpsters near the emergency exit of the auditorium. It's a familiar place. Well, not exactly this one, of course, but doesn't every school have that one place no one ever comes to except if you're dragged there in order to receive your punch of the day? I clearly remember the smell of the inside of those dumpsters and I remember running home just so 'they' wouldn't get me. I remember how I had to make an effort to hide my bruises in order not to worry dad. He never found out what was going on, though and I remember spending the rest of the day in my room – alone – the way I liked it.

"Aaaaah!"

The scream is muffled now and as I approach the scene I understand what's going on. Finn and three of his football minions have ganged up on someone I can't see, yet. Judging from the voice I heard it's clearly a girl, though. I wonder why those tough guys always choose easy victims, people who are so obviously so much weaker than them. Aren't they embarrassed by their cowardice? They should be. I for one could beat up all four of them easily but I won't do it. I don't interfere with reality and whatever is going on there. I'm just a bystander, an observer. Life doesn't affect me anymore.

I sigh quietly before stuffing another chunk of sandwich into my mouth. People will never change. No one will ever teach these dumb thugs anything and they'll grow up to become fathers who teach their children to be exactly that: dumb thugs.

Whatever. I've got more important things to think about. Like the fact that I've taken a huge bite and for a few seconds it's hard to chew. The bread has gotten squishy and is now stuck to the roof of my mouth. It's kinda annoying, because I'm wearing my gloves so my fingers won't be of any help in the battle sandwich vs. Santana Lopez. Impatiently I groan and finally manage to detach the offensive chunk from my gum with my tongue. Victory.

I look up again and see one of the guys grabbing a strand of blonde hair. Four high school boys and a girl; she's lucky if the dumpster is all she has to fear.

Why the fuck am I still here?

I take another bite – a smaller one this time – and watch the scene unfold. If I were still alive I'd probably run. But the suit doesn't only give me physical strength, it also boosts my self-confidence. Even if the bullies notice me I know they can't harm me at all, not with words and surely not with fists.

Those thugs, I almost pity them. Death gave me the chance to quit playing, while they remain stuck, probably forever. They'll continue doing what they do, not because they want to, but because it's what they do. It's what they are. It's their status, their reputation, their label. They, too, are fighting their demons. They, too, are losing every day. They, like everyone else, are afraid. Their jerseys and their violence are their Gantz and they obey the rules. They haven't made them and they can't find it within themselves to break them.

Thinking about it, their choice of victims totally makes sense. Right now the line between pity and hatred blurs more than ever.

"Let go of me!"

The voice sounds familiar and when I take a closer look blue cat-like eyes find mine. I drop my sandwich out of shock. It's definitely her and now – again – she's the only one who sees me.

"Fuck," I mumble and can't decide whether it's because of the lunch I just lost or because I was recognized. She stares at me and quits screaming and even fighting. She stares at me and pleads silently. She stares at me and I haven't even realized I've started walking when I hear myself say:

"Let her go."

Now there're four more pairs of eyes staring at me, but I can't tell what they look like. I'm mesmerized by hers, hypnotized even. I know I'll regret this later, but I'm entirely unable to stop. Her eyes are keeping me in place, almost forcing me to repeat: "Let her go."

Her expression is blank or at least unreadable for me and as the guys let go of her and focus on me instead she instantly takes a few steps back and breaks the eye contact together with her spell.

Suddenly I find myself surrounded by four guys who are up to no good at all and although I know I could kill them all within the blink of an eye I've got to hold myself back. I can't reveal myself to them. But then the Finn guy grabs my shoulder and smirks to one of his friends. Obviously they think they've found a replacement for the blonde they just lost.

Pondering how much damage I can inflict without raising a fuss I suddenly feel very tempted. To be honest, I've always wanted to take revenge for all these times I was afraid. I could easily pay them back for every time I was humiliated, for every time I'd wished to pass out. That's what Nishi did. That's how he died.

He never told me about it, but the papers carried the story for almost a month: "High school student kills classmates in violent rampage." His own death was only mentioned briefly at the very end of some of the articles. "Oh, what a tragedy," people would say and they were never referring to the suicide of a sad lost teenage boy who never had a single friend.

Of course, it's so easy to feel sad for those whose story you don't know. It's easy to think of the dead as victims and it takes a lot more effort to even consider the story could have two sides. Kids can be so ruthless. They can make each others' lives hell. They made Nishi's life hell. They made my life hell.

One incident he did mention to me once, accidentally, was that he was pushed out of a window. "Die!" they yelled as he fell to the ground. The building was only two stories high, though, and he survived with a broken leg.

"Die!" he yelled two months later while firing his dad's rifle, coloring his classroom red. Only one girl survived. The news called him a monster. The bullied became the bully.

Oh, what a tragedy. What a tragedy.

Before anyone else could get to him, Nishi shot himself.

I hear heavy breath behind me and just to calm down again I remind myself of the fact that these guys haven't done anything to me, yet. I won't become a second Nishi. I won't let the others win.

If you can't find a way to live with dignity then die with dignity, is what I had always told myself. They had taken so much from me, I couldn't let them have what was left. I couldn't allow them to mourn my death. I didn't even leave a note. They'll never know why I did it. And now that I've come back they won't even know that I did it. I'm no martyr, no saint, no monster, no one of any interest at all. I died the way that I lived. I died silently and all by myself in my basement back home. I don't like the spotlight very much, not like Nishi obviously did. My death wasn't for anyone but me.

My foot shoots forward and Finn goes down. I'm not stupid enough to break his shin or anything, but I know I've dislocated his knee. It's perfect. The injury is bad enough to make him give up but not bad enough to raise a fuss. For all anyone knows he tripped over his own feet during football practice.

The battle is over before it even began and I'm quite happy with the result. "Crazy bitch!" one of the others yells at me. "You'll pay for that!" I hear another say, but I'm not concerned. These cowards won't ever admit they've been beaten by a girl. It's an empty threat.

They'd also have to explain how exactly they got into the situation and that would only cause more trouble for them than it would for me. Besides, I'm just an average girl, the kid in the back of the row. I'm a nobody. I don't have a motive and a loser like me can't possibly know how to intentionally dislocate a knee.

Right?

Right.

I'm sure I'm safe.

When I look up the blonde girl is still standing there staring at me and yet again I'm caught by blue. "I knew it's real," she says. I furrow my eyebrows and she quickly shakes her head and says, "Thank you," before running off, leaving me standing there, stunned.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actually, we'd prefer not being confronted with such horrid topics.

When I come home I find the apartment as clean as it's ever been before. I'm not exactly a neat person and am capable of creating a huge mess with the little stuff I own. Who has time to clean when there could be aliens to kill any minute?

Well, Rachel, apparently.

"Rachel!" I yell and realize it's the first time I've called her by her name.

She emerges from the bathroom. "Hey, I was just scrubbing your toilet," she says with a proud smile on her face. The image of her kneeling in front of the porcelain bowl with her suit on is ridiculous enough to almost forget about the fact that she's been going through my things.

"You shouldn't be wasting your time on shit like that," I snap at her, ignoring the pun. "We could be called back anytime and you're a weakling. If you're planning on surviving another mission you should do something about that," I shake my head. "We," I mumble. "Ugh."

"Well, you're welcome," she replies in a tone that's icy enough to make my blood boil. "You're somewhat of a slob, Santana, and if you don't enjoy having me as company you certainly won't be too happy once you have to share your bed with rats." Her nostrils are as wide as they were in the room with Gantz and I play along, giving her the reaction she expects: "That's another thing", I simply comment, "Go buy yourself a mattress and some clothes."

She huffs, of course, and I smirk, pleased with myself for reminding her that we're not friends. The moment doesn't last long, though, because there's a knock on my door. It's especially remarkable, because before today no one but Rachel had ever knocked on my door.

But before I even get the chance to ignore the sound, Rachel answers the door. "What can I do for you?" I hear her ask.

I groan and as I push her aside I see the blonde girl from earlier. Her eyes find mine immediately and I look back, unable to break the contact. Suddenly Rachel doesn't bother me anymore.

"Come in," I hear myself say.

She steps inside and takes a look around. "Nice place," she says and it doesn't sound sarcastic. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Rachel beam.

"I followed you after school. Sorry about that."

"That's ok." What's wrong with me?

"I wanted to thank you for helping me earlier," she continues, and although it's obvious that's not really why she's here, I nod.

For a few long moments she stands awkwardly in the middle of the room and none of us says a word. Then she eyes up Rachel, but before I can even wonder what's going on she speaks again:

"Do you have a computer? I'd like to show you something."

I notice Rachel frown at me as I boot up my laptop and let a complete stranger use it, but she doesn't interject. The blonde girl stands right next to me now and for a few seconds I feel uneasy. Then she looks at me with her hypnotizing stare and says: "I'm sorry. I haven't even introduced myself, yet. I'm Brittany." She smiles and turns her head back to the screen.

Here's the thing: I'm kind of proud of my ability to read people. I never had much of a life, so instead I became an observer. People are easy to understand. But Brittany? She's an exception. When she looks at me, my heart stops and I feel like I'm drowning. Part of me wonders if she's some sort of mythical creature who's luring me into a false sense of security and will kill me when I least expect it. Part of me doesn't care.

Her arm brushes mine and an electric jolt rushes through me and settles in my stomach. Suddenly I'm hot; sweating, actually. She smiles at me and I almost forget my name.

"Santana," I blurt out, partly to remind myself.

She nods and says: "Hi Santana," and I think I've just died again.

"And you are?" It takes a couple of seconds before I realize Brittany's not talking to me this time. She's looking at Rachel and smiles so sweetly it makes me a little jealous. "I'm Rachel and if you'd excuse my curiosity, would you mind to explain how exactly you two know each other?" Then she shoots me a look as if I'm supposed to do or say something, but I really don't feel like talking to Rachel so instead I just turn my head to Brittany again. "We met at school today," she says and opens my Internet browser, apparently oblivious to Rachel's challenging tone.

"Look." She turns to me as she points at the screen and it's only then that I realize I've been staring at her the entire time. I can't will my eyes off of her, though, because her blue eyes are still holding mine. I'm terrified and mesmerized at the same time and it's so awkward and so strange and entirely new but I can't find it within myself to stop.

"Oh my god!"

Rachel's annoying voice screams directly into my ear and rips me back into reality. I follow her gaze and when I peek at the screen in front of me I freeze.

"Isn't that..?" I'm just quick enough to ram my elbow into Rachel's rib cage to make her shut up. She gasps in pain, but I ignore her, because what Brittany's showing me is a webpage dedicated to a mysterious black ball called Gantz.

"What am I looking at?" I ask, trying to sound casual as I pull my hoodie higher in an attempt to cover my neck. But Brittany just hooks her fingers in my collar, pulls it back down, smirks and looks back at the screen.

"They call it Gantz. Here."

And she clicks through the menu, revealing information only insiders can have. There's a page with a list of different kinds of aliens, detailed descriptions and all, a list of the weapons we use and even some quotes from the black ball. The title of the page is simple: "Your lives have ended".

The rest is mostly wild speculation about what Gantz is and who built the black ball. There's a section where people can comment anonymously, but none of them seem to know anything. Most of them agree that Gantz is some kind of government project, made to train soldiers. One theory about the aliens being an illusion and that we're actually murdering real people, freaks me out a little. I decide to shake this thought off and pretend I never read about it.

I'm not sure what happens if I talk about Gantz to others, but I'm absolutely not going to try my luck. The possible punishment is definitely not worth taking the risk. As intriguing as this website is I can't let Brittany know that I know a thing. Our suits… they could pass as some weird role-playing costumes.

Right?

Shit.

"There's an 'about' section," Brittany finally says and the sweat on my forehead and palms feels hot and sticky. I can barely breathe.

"It says 'Quinn'. That's all. No last name, no address."

Quinn.

" _Gantz," I'll sometimes say, "show me those who've died," and their pictures appear on the sphere in a checkerboard pattern. But only two people on there actually mean something to me._

There's Nishi.

And there's Quinn.

Quinn Fabray.

My first and only friend.

My first kiss.

My first regret.

"You don't happen to know this Quinn girl, do you?" Brittany asks while tapping her chin with her index finger, her teasing smirk still adorning her face.

Shit.

"No." I shake my head, but Rachel's trademark huff to my left proves that I'm not very convincing.

I clench my fists a little tighter to keep them from shaking and try to ignore her. It doesn't work.

For some reason, though, Brittany refrains from calling me out on my strange behavior. Instead she continues: "So I guess you don't know anything about this, either?"

At first I have a hard time understanding what I'm even looking at, but as I read through the page Brittany has highlighted phrases like "let's do it together", "remember that it's voluntary" and "Gantz is waiting" catch my attention and suddenly my eyeballs are threatening to bulge out of my head. Not even the blonde hair tickling my arm can distract me now.

It's a suicide pact.

Rachel crosses her arms and looks away in discomfort. "That's so sad," she whispers and I agree with her for once.

My eyes are still glued to the screen when Brittany speaks again: "I've been tracking people from this site, trying to find out anything about Gantz, but I haven't figured anything out yet. I was able to find some of the people who posted on here, but they always disappear before I can reach them. I'm convinced that it has something to do with this." She points at the screen and continues: "Suicide rates haven't gone up in the past five years, not by an amount that I'd consider significant so I assume this page and the pact haven't had any effect on those numbers. Also the number of people who disappear doesn't seem relevant enough for any newspaper to carry a story. I had to do all the investigations myself and by that I mean I had to personally talk to a lot of people whose relatives and friends had disappeared."

So apparently she's really done her homework.

"And why does that matter to you?" I snap at her and mean it. Somehow it suddenly feels like she's invading my privacy. Gantz is my life, not hers. It has to remain a secret. With Gantz I obey the rules, I play along and in return I'm left alone.

But Brittany objects to all of that: "Aren't you curious?" she asks and her eyes drill holes through me.

"We're not," Rachel finally responds. I'm grateful and pissed off at the same time. Why does she get to talk to Brittany now?

"Actually, we'd prefer not being confronted with such horrid topics. Suicide? Aliens? Weapons? No. I'm not curious at all."

Brittany just smiles her sweet smile and nods before getting up. "Ok," she says. "I'll leave you alone then." A part of me wants to grab her arm and tell her everything. It's her stare. Her eyes and her hair and her smile keep me trapped. I want to follow her right out the door and wherever else she's going. Fortunately I manage to shake this thought from my head as I lead her out.

She turns around one more time.

"Santana," she starts and just her saying my name is almost enough for me to forget everything. "Do you believe in fate?"

I look at her and suddenly something familiar rings inside of me. Like a voice trying to tell me something important, but I can't make out the words, not all of them. I look at her again and something warm tugs at my insides and kicks something loose from my memory:

" _You have to make a choice_."

"No. I don't." I finally say.

Brittany looks a little disappointed, but quickly recovers.

"Well," she replies, "that's really too bad, because…" she pauses for a few seconds and chews on her lower lip. "I think that fate believes in you."

"Oh yea?"

She nods, obviously happy with herself.

"I think that if we're drawn to something… or someone… we shouldn't stand in our own way. Fighting such a connection is like fighting your own instincts. Nothing good can ever come out of that. That's why I'm investigating."

I listen closely to what she's saying, but remain silent.

My world isn't based on instinct. It's based on rules.

Not even Brittany's smile as she turns to walk out can change that.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't remember?

"…and then she just pretended she'd lost my number. Can you believe chicks sometimes?"

Working in a warehouse isn't exactly the obvious choice for a girl and co-workers like the one's conversation I have the displeasure of overhearing right now kind of explains why.

When I applied for this job the supervisor just raised an eyebrow and eyed me up. Clearly his intention was to mock me when he ordered me to pick up some heavy boxes from the assembly line and put it on one of the shelves – top row, of course. Even when I proved this wasn't a problem for me he didn't give up. Fucker didn't even try to hide his smirk when he asked me to use a forklift and rearrange some crates. That's basically what working in a warehouse is about: Carrying stuff from A to B and back, filling boxes, cutting boxes open, pushing crates, refilling supplies, taking out the trash… it's pretty dull. I guess if it weren't for Gantz and my suit, if was still an average teenage girl I wouldn't have bothered working here, or at all, for that matter. The old Santana would probably have laughed right in my face.

Anyway, after three days of proving I didn't have a problem with all this nonsense they call hard work I got the job and I guess I earned myself some respect, too. The supervisor only smirks at me now when he thinks I'm not looking. Asshole. Whatever.

Actually I like the warehouse. I mean, yea, the pay is shitty and I could probably do better if I worked as a waitress and shook my ass at customers or whatever, but there's no way in hell I'm gonna do that.

Up here on the first floor there are no windows reminding me of what time of the day or year it is. It's always kinda cold and kinda dark, but at least no one pretends it's not. Anywhere else people expect you to celebrate the day, to celebrate life. But here all I'm expected to do is move stuff around and no one gives a fuck if I smile. No, actually, it'd be really weird if I smiled, because who fucking smiles while moving crates around? Although I have to admit that skating on a hand-lift is sort of fun.

My co-workers are all guys, which is also fine with me. They're the simple minded kind, the kind that doesn't expect me to talk if I don't want to. Here in the warehouse all boundaries are respected if you just work hard enough. You can be a complete weirdo, anti-social, even rude and it doesn't matter. Sometimes I think it's even appreciated.

Of course that also means enduring some really obnoxious guy-talk.

"… so I was like 'Dude! No one gives a fuck.' and he went all crazy on me, tried to hit me and all. But fucker has no aim so what does he do? He rams his fist into the next wall. Now he's got a broken wrist. That idiot…"

Enlightening.

I climb a step further upwards on the ladder that's leaned against the shelf I'm currently working on. My upper body is kind of buried between stuff as I try to make space for the box I'm balancing on my right hand. It's not heavy, it's just big and unwieldy.

"Did you see that girl's ass? I wonder how old she is."

I close my eyes for a second and just hope they're not talking about me.

"Shhh!"

"You think she can hear us?"

Fuck.

"She's pretty strong for a girl, though. I don't know."

I know this kind of talk. It always starts with a little comment. Then someone else agrees. Then those two start exchanging comments frequently. Next the comments grow to gossip and before you know it you got a whole team against you, talking behind your back. It shouldn't bother me. Not anymore. Not after my death. And yet it triggers memories.

I'm in my usual bathroom stall, squatting on the toilet, trying to escape all the looks and talks.

I'm lying in the dumpster, staring at the sky, trying to fight back my tears.

I'm in the hallway right after some insult was thrown at me. "Loser! Retard! Dyke! Trashcan!" I used to close my eyes and walk on, trying to ignore them away. A part of me always hoped they'd just disappear if I managed to pretend long enough. If I'd just hold still, they'd eventually give up, right?

Yea. It never worked. I was such a wuss, such a coward.

Now I'm strong. I do my job well. I deserve respect and no one's going to take it from me.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, do you have a bathroom I could use?"

And then it hits me that of course they weren't talking about me.

I should have known that bringing Rachel here wasn't such a great idea. But she needs a job. She needs her own stuff. She needs her own fucking mattress.

"Pancakes," I remind myself as I make my way back down the ladder to save my roommate from further humiliation and most importantly: to save my own dignity. I brought her here. If she makes an ass out of herself they'll take it out on me.

"Good job, Lopez." I curse to myself. But just as I'm about to jump off the second to last step I hear the familiar ringing noise.

Not now! Dammit! Not now! Something's seriously wrong, because Gantz never calls me back when I'm around other people. I'm always alone! Fuck that. "Rachel!" I call out, climbing all the way back up. "Rachel! Care to help me with for a second?" I repeat when I don't receive a response.

In my panic I jump onto the shelf and hide between some boxes. I must look ridiculous, but at least it's safe.

The last thing I see is Rachel approaching with a puzzled look on her face.

"Santana?"

A few seconds later I find myself in the apartment with Gantz.

I wait for Rachel to follow, but she doesn't come. No one does. It's more than a little confusing. Gantz, what are you up to this time? I just hope Pancakes doesn't ruin my reputation at work while I'm gone.

I stand there and stare at the black ball waiting for the screen to light up, but nothing happens.

Then the ball snaps open. No music, no weapons, no enemy to kill, no mockery. Just me standing there glaring awkwardly at the orb as it opens up.

For another few minutes nothing happens so I decide to take a closer look at the black ball. Who knows, maybe the guy inside died and Gantz is going crazy or something. But as I approach the orb I see something move inside of it and before I know it there's a naked dude- THE naked dude – standing in front of me, wearing nothing but his mohawk. And have I mentioned that he's naked? And he's supposed to be sitting inside the black ball!

Holy shit.

I feel my hands touch the ground behind me and realize I've actually fallen backwards. My jaw hurts and I realize it's wide open.

"W…w…what the…?" I hear myself stutter.

And then he speaks:

"Oh, yea. Uh, sorry about that." He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, but doesn't try to cover himself. He's kind enough to leave some distance between his junk and me, though.

"This isn't one of your regular calls," he finally says.

No shit.

"In fact", he continues. "I called you myself to make you an offer."

"An offer?" My mouth moves faster than my brain and I find it hard to keep track of what's happening.

"Yea. Oh, I'm Puck by the way. I died, just like you. I came here the same way you did."

I blink a few times and try to make sense of that tidbit of information, without success.

"Well, anyway. I'm your friend, you know." He smiles sheepishly. Apparently he doesn't know I don't have any friends. Never had.

"So I called you here and I want to send you on one more mission on your own. I want you to get those last points, but…"

Here we go. Of course there's gotta be a catch. There always is.

"… I want you to use your points to revive Nishi."

The two brain cells which are actually still working snap out of their stupor and I finally realize what's going on.

"No way!" I snap at Puck.

I've worked too hard to get where I am. Two years I've been fighting and killing and running just to get out of here and now I'm supposed to give up my freedom voluntarily just to revive someone who betrayed me? No way.

"I thought you'd say that," Puck says. "What you do with your points is up to you, of course. But Nishi can help you bring back the others."

I furrow my eyebrows, because this guy is speaking some language I don't understand.

"Who?" is all I can come up with.

"The others," Puck repeats and it doesn't help me. "Because right now you might not care, but she cares."

"What? Who? What?" This is getting beyond confusing and I'm seriously about to lose my nerve.

"Shelby."

That word, that name, hangs in the room between Puck and me like a curtain of mist. It's ringing somewhat familiar inside my head, but I can't put my finger on why. It's like there's a fog in my brain, like a melody you know from somewhere but no matter how hard you try you can't remember where you know it from.

"I don't know…" I shake my head.

"You don't remember?" he asks as if it wasn't obvious.

"Whatever," I answer him. What's inside my head is none of his business.

"Well, you met her. We all did. And you made a choice, like me."

_You have to make a choice_.

Puck continues, "But like me you have to find all of that out yourself. You'll have to make a lot of choices and the most important one will lead you back to her. But first of all you need to revive Nishi."

And with that he steps back into the black ball, reconnects himself to all those weird devices and breathes into his cone.

The orb closes and a transmission begins.


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Send me in first!

I assume it's Rachel who's being transported here, but instead it's definitely a guy. Maybe Rachel is going to follow later? After all, I don't know how many people my team will consist of, yet.

Hold up.

Didn't Puck say I was going on my own?

When the guy is complete I realize that yet again I've been tricked. Quickly, I pull the hood up to hide my face. The guy isn't my teammate; he's my competition. Gantz, have you tricked Puck as well or is this all part of the plan?

It's Finn.

Finn Hudson, that loser from school. And judging from the way he stands there and smirks at me his death has fully healed his leg. Too bad.

"Hey, I know you!"

High school is his world and in his world I'd have to respond, because when Finn Hudson has something to say then everybody else has to listen.

But this is Gantz. This is my world, not his. So I smirk right back at him and let my stare linger on his leg long enough for him to understand.

The smile on his face vanishes.

"Whatever," he mumbles.

I'd ask him how he died if I gave a fuck, which I don't. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to watch him die again today so I'll never have to see his stupid smirk again.

"Are you part of the pact?" He interrupts my thoughts and then I know. Finn Hudson, Mr. Popular killed himself to play a little 'hunt the alien'. Hunting people apparently got boring.

I shrug and stare at the black ball. This is my game. Just because some kids offed themselves to participate doesn't mean the rules have changed. Just because they come here knowing about Gantz already, doesn't mean they're better than me. Just because Finn knows me from school, doesn't mean he knows anything about me at all.

I let my fingertips run along the grip of my gun. Nope. He doesn't know anything.

"The others aren't here," I hear him mumble and when I look over at him he's staring at the ground, contemplating. He starts chewing on his lower lip and closes his eyes slowly.

He swallows hard and shakes his head and when he turns to me his eyes are cold. It's only then that I realize that I've been staring with my mouth wide open so I snap my jaw back up and look away. But apparently Finn feels provoked.

"You'll pay for my knee," he hisses and I chuckle at his attempt to sound vicious. "Who do you think you are going around and hurting people like that? Coach kicked me off the football team for the rest of the season! You made it look like an accident, but I know you did it on purpose."

"Hypocrite." I make sure my face stays blank and my voice sounds calm. I don't look at him. My eyes are fixed on Gantz instead.

"Excuse me?" he asks.

Slowly I turn my head to look him in the eye. "I said you're a hypocrite," I repeat. "I know people like you. You think you have the right to hurt anyone you want, just because someone decided to put you up on top. I saw exactly what you were about to do."

_~ Atarashii asa ga kita ~_

Thankfully Gantz interrupts our little chat and reminds me that I'm here for a reason.

Finn raises an eyebrow. "What's that song about?" he asks, but I don't bother answering. The screen lights up just the way it always does.

"Your lives have ended. What you do with your new lives is entirely up to me. That's the theory anyway."

I know the words. I know them and I live them. They ring in my head before I go to sleep and they pop up in random situations during the day. They've been my guideline ever since I got here and yet I somehow managed to forget about them during my conversation with Puck.

And suddenly I get a really bad feeling about this.

"Please kill this guy." Gantz says and as the screen changes to display my target's picture my bad feeling is immediately confirmed. How could I even for a second believe that for once in my life things could be easy? How could I let myself think Gantz would let me have anything?

Finn gasps.

This can't be real.

"What, Brittany?" Finn barks out and I want to punch him just for saying her name. "Shut the fuck up," I hiss.

I know I shouldn't care and I don't, really. I've known Brittany for only a couple of days and she doesn't mean anything to me. But I've always only killed aliens. Sure, I've let people die, sometimes I've even set those traps, but never have I ever raised my gun and fired my weapon and killed a person.

I wonder what it'll be like. The thought makes me a little nervous. I'll be ending a life. I mean, I'll be ending a life other than my own.

"I don't understand," Finn shakes his head. "Are we supposed to kill Brain... I mean... Brittany?" His voice sounds questioning, but not shocked. It worries me a little.

"Brain..."

She sure seemed kinda smart when we last talked, but not  _that_  smart. I'll have to be extra careful on this mission. Maybe it's a trap Gantz set for me, but maybe I was just meant to meet her. Maybe it really was a siren's call I heard when I looked into her eyes.

Either way, even if she's harmless I'll lose my points if Finn gets to her first. I'll lose everything I fought so hard for these last two years. It's not even just about being set free.

If I lose the mission it'll be the last confirmation that I'm just another failure.

Even though Gantz sends me out to kill aliens, every battle I fight is against myself. Whenever I'm wounded a part of me secretly wishes that I'll die, that I won't recover, that I can quit playing this sick game. It takes all my willpower to not give up.

So I call myself a monster.

I call myself cruel.

I pretend not to give a fuck.

Truth is, though, that's only wishful thinking.

If I was truly dead inside this last mission would be easy.

Instead, my throat feels dry and I'm more nervous than ever.

Finn must sense my anxiety, because he stares at me, eyeing me up, trying to read me and then, as if the one brain cell he's got switches on, his eyes light up and his smirk is back.

"Don't worry," he says mockingly, "If you're too much of a coward I'll do it for you."

Clenching my teeth I try not to give anything away. He still thinks this is a game and that he's got nothing to lose. In his head it's all just like a round of capture the flag.

Wait for it, Finn. You'll learn to be afraid.

And although I'm not sure what I'll do when I find Brittany, I know that I've got to get to her before he does. Winning is motivation enough, but If I get to kick Finn Hudson's ass in the process, well, that's a bonus.

She's just another target. This is just another mission. This is just another competition.

"Gantz!" I yell. "Send me in first!" I don't know if Gantz can hear me. I don't know if she's listening, but it's worth a try.

"Gantz! Send me in first!"

And finally my feet start to disappear.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a target.
> 
> Just one shot and I can go home.

When I materialize, I immediately recognize the place. I'm standing in McKinley High's schoolyard.

It's late, and there are only a few kids around who apparently just got freed from detention. They look right through me just like usual. Apparently the rules haven't changed despite the fact that I'm now after a human instead of an alien: I'm invisible to everyone around me.

Is she in this building or outside? Why is she still here at all?

I look up and see that the fifth floor lights are still on. The rest of the building appears dark so chances are that Brittany...I mean my [target](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7948543/13/A-New-Morning) is up there. But if I'm wrong and she's somewhere out here I'll lose the fight and my points.

Finn should be here any second and I don't have any time to waste so I settle for the quickest option: trusting my instincts.

I always get a little excited before consciously using my suit. When I'm already in the middle of a fight and it starts to work I barely notice it, but in moments like this it's different.

I clearly remember the first time I realized how the suit works. I was chasing an alien, or really Nishi was chasing an alien and the alien was chasing me. I ran as fast as I could, but no matter how hard I tried the monster would always catch up.

I've always been a fast runner, but this alien was incredibly fast and I knew I wouldn't stand a chance without a miracle. It was when a long flight of stairs came into my line of vision and I felt my enemy breathing down my neck that I truly panicked.

I started to cry but kept running. The prospect of breaking my neck was too far away in comparison to the monster right behind me. I didn't ponder on my options. I didn't think about if I could make it. All I thought about was that I didn't want to be eaten alive.

So I ran.

And then I jumped.

And I jumped higher than I'd ever jumped before. I jumped higher than humanly possible. I had put all my strength into the jump and I shot upwards at least ten metres high. When I looked down I panicked again, because I've always been afraid of heights. They make me dizzy to the point where my legs shake and buckle, and my breath becomes heavy and yea, well...

You get the picture.

So when I looked down and saw that not only was the flight of stairs was much longer than expected, but also that I was practically fucking flying, I was overwhelmed by fear and temporarily forgot about the monster behind me. Instead I focused on the ground drawing closer and imagined splattered brains and shattered bones. I was terrified.

Instead, I landed on my two feet with one hand on the ground and only opened my eyes when I realized I was still breathing. The asphalt below me had suffered, though and there were cracks in the street around my feet and the spot where my fist had hit the ground. I, on the other hand, was still in one piece.

I couldn't believe my luck and as I examined my limbs, trying to find a single scratch I noticed how big my muscles had grown. It was pretty gross at first, but I got used to it.

Back when I started my missions, only these kinds of extreme emotions would trigger my abilities. It was usually fear or anger and, hell, I have enough anger within me to last two lifetimes.

Emotions used to overwhelm me, mentally and physically. I'd be sucked into this dark pit of pure feeling, incapable of freeing myself. It was like a vigilant coma.

Now it's different. Gantz forced me to take back control over my body. I learned that thoughts control emotions and emotions control my physical state.

Basically I focus on what I want to do and how I have to feel for that. I concentrate on what that emotion feels like in my forehead and then I imitate the feeling. My body usually reacts right away. I've had two years of practice after all.

By now it's pure routine. I've learned how to activate my armour and use it whenever I need it. So I stand back, eyes on my aim. I breathe in a few times.

I start speeding towards the building and hope the run-up will be enough. My eyes are fixed on a window on the fifth floor. I run as fast as I can, bend my knees and jump.

I reach the window easily and smash through it with my fist, landing inside a classroom.

No one's there.

I've got no time to lose so I run across the hallway into the opposite classroom.

No one's there, either.

Damn it.

Finn will be catching up to me any second so I got no option but to search the floor as quickly as possible. As I run down the hall I find most of the doors open, so it's easy to scan the rooms quickly and move on.

Right at the end of the corridor, in the very last room before the door that leads to the stairwell I find her.

She's sitting at her desk, quietly studying some book and taking notes on a sheet of paper in front of her. She's alone in the room and I can only see her back. Her hair's pulled back into a pony tail and her left hand is playing with a lose strand.

I approach her quietly and draw my gun. She doesn't look up. She's completely unaware of the threat. My palms start to sweat and when I blink I realize that my forehead is actually sweating, too. "It's just a target," I remind myself. "Just this one shot and I can go home."

Home.

What is that?

Dad?

Shaking my head, I refocus on my mission. It's simple. It should be simple.

But for some reason it's not.

She's a person, right? I've never killed a person before. Maybe she's not a person after all. With that thought on my mind I quietly step closer towards her. I pull the upper trigger and the screen on my X-gun shows just a normal human skull.

But that doesn't mean anything, right?

I move closer with my finger on the trigger. If I get closer to her, maybe she'll notice me and reveal her true self. Maybe she'll turn into the alien she must be and fight back. She'll give me a reason to shoot.

I stand behind her and my heart starts to hammer and my skin starts to burn just like it did when she touched my arm. I swallow thickly and look over her shoulder. Her notes will surely contain some kind of plan to destroy humankind. She's a fiend, a villain, a target!

Spanish.

She's studying Spanish.

And all her notes are wrong, but that's not the point.

She's human. She's just a student. And Gantz wants her dead.

I know it's no use to ask questions so I grip my weapon tighter and take aim once more. It's just the back of her head and who knows? Maybe she's done something terrible to deserve this. Maybe I'll be the good guy in this after all. Maybe it won't be as hard to shoot a person.

Maybe all those movies and books where killing someone haunts you for the rest of your life are all lies.

My lips are dry and I try to lick them, but it's no use, because there's not the slightest hint of wetness on my tongue either. The dryness has crept down my throat and swallowing has become painful.

It's just one shot. One shot, and it'll all be over. Two years and it'll finally be over.

My hands start to tremble and my fingers twitch. All I have to do is pull the triggers.

I try.

Once.

Twice.

My fingers won't move.

Three times.

I can't.

Defeated, I lower my gun. Who am I kidding? I can't do this. I am Santana Lopez. I'm not a very nice person. I'm a sarcastic bitch.

I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a murderer.

Slowly I make my way around Brittany's desk. She's no longer my target and this is my only chance to look at her without her noticing. It's curiosity that urges me on. Maybe I'll be able to learn something about her this time. When she can't see me, her spell won't work, right?

Her eyes are fixated on her book and her brows are furrowed. "This is too hard," she sighs.

It's actually not, just some really basic grammar stuff I could teach her easily, but she makes a face as if someone had asked her to write an essay on quantum physics. "So they call you 'Brain' to mock you," I mumble.

She looks up from her notes and for a second I'm afraid she heard me. But she only bites her lip and stares right through me, lost in thought and then I see it:

She's not an alien, but she's not an average human being, either. Her blue eyes are full of wonder and somehow make me feel happy and safe in a way nobody ever has before. Her eyes are like windows to a world without all the misery and darkness I know and I'm not trapped in her gaze, because she knows no prison.

No. She's not an alien.

She's not a monster.

She's not a siren.

She's an angel.

"There you are."

Finn's found us way too quickly and he storms into the room with a determined expression on his face.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks, raising his weapon.

"Wait!" I practically scream. "This is a mistake!"

But he only scrunches his face and says: "What kind of mistake should that be? The website said it all: We're given a target. We kill the target. We receive points. We're just fighting an alien, right?" He adds with a grin, "We're protecting mankind!"

And I gotta admit that that's pretty much what you can get from Quinn's website.

"No!" I object. "I mean... I don't know. It's just..."

Finn's too new to this, too eager for me to stop him. I can see it in his eyes; his mind is set on one goal: to win.

"Fine," I say and raise my gun and point it at him.

Finn and I are now both pointing our guns at each other with Brittany, sitting obliviously between us, studying Spanish. It's pretty weird.

For a second everything's quiet; then Brittany sighs and Finn barks across the room: "You know what happens if you kill me."

Crap. He knows.

"Well, you can't kill me, either," I smirk at him and take a step forward to stand between his gun and Brittany.

All I have to do is keep him occupied long enough until Gantz' countdown runs out. I'll lose my points, but I'll be damned if let him win.

"Fine," he says and lowers his gun and storms forward into my direction, tackling me and throwing me to the ground. But my suit is already activated and Finn hasn't figured out to use his yet, so I simply lift one leg, put my foot on his chest and kick him across the room.

When he smashes against the wall, some posters fall to the ground as the bricks shake under the impact.

Brittany screams and jumps from her seat. I can only hope that she's smart enough to run. I can keep Finn in this room for the next hour. I can keep fighting him, but it'd be a lot easier if she wasn't around. The more distance between his gun and her, the better.

But she just stands there rooted to the spot with her eyes wide open in shock and confusion written all over her perfect face. She stands there and Finn gets up and takes aim and I sprint over to him and knock his arm away.

Five seconds pass and the blackboard on the opposite wall bursts into pieces as Brittany screams again.

"Run!" I yell at her, but of course she can't hear me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Finn snaps at me, before attempting to punch me in the face. I block his fist easily and hold it steady, forcing him to stand back.

His face turns red as he tries to fight himself loose. His veins pop as he clenches his teeth. "Fuck you," he hisses. But as his anger grows so does his suit, and as he's gaining strength he realizes what he's capable of.

He pushes hard and forces me backwards, and all I can do is swing at him with my free hand. I hit him in the stomach and force the air out of his lungs. I smash his nose and hear it crack. He starts to bleed, but doesn't give up.

Finn's becoming mad, really fucking mad and his suit grows stronger and stronger. The giant turns into a beast. The one upside is that he's now more focused on me than he is on Brittany.

I feel a kick to my gut and fly backwards. My head hits the edge of a desk and – shit- that fucking hurts. Not a second passes and he jumps across the room to land on top of me.

"You're dead," he hisses as he lifts his arm to strike.

"You first," comes my immediate response as the chair I reached out for splinters over his head.

I'm back up on my feet only half a second faster than he is. He wipes his nose and rubs the back of his head and yet again launches himself forward against me. It's like he's still playing football; his body is the only weapon he really knows how to use.

He rams into me and I fall backwards against glass. He punches and I dodge; his fist shatters the window and I take the opportunity to strike back. My right fist finds his chin and my left follows just after and a gush of blood sprays out of his nostrils and onto the floor. Just as I'm about to strike a third time he grabs my wrists and knocks his giant forehead against mine.

I manage to kick him back again, but his suit has grown strong enough to absorb the impact and within seconds he's storming back towards me. I try to dodge, but his elbow hits my rib cage and I stumble sideways outside the window.

Fortunately my suit is working overtime as well so it doesn't take much effort to catch the window frame as I fall and swing myself right back in through the next pane, feet first.

Glass shatters and I land right next to Brittany who's only managed to take a few steps backwards and is now frozen on the spot again. "What's going on?" she whimpers and Finn's head jerks up into her direction. Quickly he raises his weapon and just as quickly I push Brittany behind me. She falls, gets back up and despite everything still doesn't run.

"Fucking shit. Get out of here!" I yell desperately.

When Finn tries to tackle me this time I grab his waist and throw him sideways, but he manages to get hold of my neck with one bear hand and pulls me down with him. I roll over my shoulder and we stand in front of each other, face to face, breathing heavily.

It's like a duel in one of these old Western movies where each of us is waiting for the other person to move first. Finn wipes his chin and grins and it's only then that I notice the warmth creeping down my forehead. Two years ago I felt every little scratch, but nowadays I barely feel anything. I wipe at my eyebrows to keep the blood from running into my eyes and ponder my next move.

I can let him attack me again and keep defending myself to keep him occupied. Or I can strike first and maybe knock him unconscious.

He's standing with his back towards the windows now and I squint, because the light's blinding me a little.

At this point I can only estimate how much time has passed, but my gut tell me it's been about half an hour. Only thirty more minutes to distract that scumbag. Thirty more minutes and Brittany will be safe and I'll lose everything.

He bends his knees ever so slightly and I know he's about to attack again. But then he turns towards Brittany and immediately I understand that it's not me he's aiming for this time. Out of reflex I grab another chair and heave it into his direction. He dodges, which throws his aim off, and when I hear the chair crash through the window, I'm already on the floor with him on top of me.

His hands are around my neck. My hands find his arm, but he's strong; his face is red and there's madness in his eyes. He doesn't even care about the rules anymore. He doesn't care if he dies. He will strangle me if I let him.

I feel my heart beat sharp against my temples and gasp for air, but without success. It's actually a familiar feeling, not being able to breathe. It reminds me of what happened before Gantz.

Death doesn't really scare me anymore. Even if I survive, if I win this fight, I'll lose my points. I'll be trapped in this cruel world for another eternity, maybe to die in my next mission anyway.

I close my eyes and hope it'll be over fast. I hope he'll kill us both within the next couple of heartbeats so I can stop worrying. All the darkness surrounding me will fade away. I won't have a reason to hate anymore, or to suffer, or to rage. I'll be free.

Suddenly blue flashes behind my eyelids. It's just a blur at first, but as I feel my life slipping away, the outlines focus to form a picture I hadn't counted on to appear as my last thought: Brittany's eyes. And then she takes a step back so I can see her face. She looks at me, looks right  _into_  me like she always does and it's like she pins my soul into my body and forces me to stay awake.

And then I realize I don't have a choice. I have to go on. She won't let me die.

I open my eyes and gather all my strength and unleash it in a single blow to Finn's head. He flies across the room and when I get up, he doesn't. It gives me a second to cough, breathe, and recover. It gives me a second to keep myself from crying and it gives me time to think.

He lies there unconscious and I know I've won and lost at the same time. All I have to do is to wait for Gantz' countdown to reach zero. I'll lose my points, but at least I won't be a monster like Finn.

The transport begins and as Finn starts to disappear I sense that something's off. It's too early for us to be called back.

Oh no.

I turn around and scan the room. Where's Brittany?

Letting my gaze wander through the room I'm desperately hoping to see her cowering beneath one of the desks, but when my eyes catch the broken window a horrifying thought flashes through my mind.

It can't be.

I run to the window and take a deep breath before leaning over to look down. We're on the fifth floor. Please just let her have run away.

But I see her immediately lying down there right next to the chair I threw at Finn. He dodged. She didn't. And that the transport has already begun can only mean one thing.

Without thinking, I jump. I've got no time to lose. I land and the impact makes the ground beneath me quake and crack. She's lying there with her eyes closed as if she was sleeping and for a second I'm tricking myself into thinking that she is. Then I see the blood running from the back of her head, colouring the spot on which she's lying red.

And I want to undo it all.

I want to go back in time and talk to Finn. I want to apologize for dislocating his knee. I want to unsay all those insults and convince him to just let it go. I've killed before, but never a person. Now I'm a murderer.

Life never meant much to me. My life never mattered much.

That's why two years ago I committed suicide.

I died so all this would stop.

And then I fought to make it stop.

But now all I can think about is to rewind this last fight that was supposed to set me free. I want to take Brittany in my arms, put the blood back in, fill her lungs with air once more, restart her heart, repair her skull and neck and let her blue pierce me once more. Take it back! I take it back! Everything I said and thought and did, I take it back. I take back all wounds I inflicted, all the harm I've caused. I give back my points.

Just to un-kill her.

But I already see my feet start to disappear. It's too late.

She's gone.

As my body vanishes I close my eyes and a familiar voice rings in my head:  _"Do you want to live?"_

I don't know.

* * *

I open my eyes and find myself back in the apartment. Finn's already there and awake and he's looking at me as if he'd just kicked a puppy. "I don't know what your problem is. It's just a game, right?" he says and rubs the back of his neck.

"No, you idiot. It's not," I snap back at him, but he just furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"Gantz, you bastard!" I yell as I draw my gun.

"Wow, hold up. What are you doing?" Finn takes a few steps back and raises his arms. Dimwit. I'm not going to shoot him.

"Gantz, open up!" I knock on the ball. "Open up!"

The orb opens and without hesitation I aim at Puck's head and fire. It's all his fault. He tricked me.

I wait five seconds, but nothing happens.

I shoot again. "Die!"

And again. "Liar!"

And again.

And once more.

The orb snaps back shut and Puck is still as alive as he can be.

"Time for the points." Gantz' voice sings.

"Finn Hudson. Zero points. Quit snoozing, start fighting."

Finn looks at me in confusion. But I don't want to talk to him. I don't ever want to see his face again.

"Santana Lopez. 15 points." I almost cry. It's all I wanted and yet, it's exactly the opposite. And Gantz isn't quite done with me, yet: "Your life has ended. What you do with your new life is entirely up to me."

So that's what this was about. It was a punishment for Puck trying to help me out. Apparently I needed a reminder of the fact that I'm not worth shit. A goodbye present from Gantz. Sick bastard.

_That's the theory anyway._

How can I go home now? And if my memory is going to be erased, how much of me will really vanish?

But then I realize the 100 point menu hasn't appeared yet and before I start to wonder why, Gantz speaks again:

"Brittany S. Pierce. Zero points. Welcome back."

And another transmission begins.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's all I ever wanted.
> 
> Right?

When I was younger I used to skip school a lot. I'd get up in the morning and if my dad was home I'd just open the front door, slam it shut loudly, and hide in my room until he left.

Then I'd spend the day lying on my bed, listening to music and dreaming the day away. In another life I could be someone. I'd be popular. I'd be admired. I'd be feared, too, but not in the way I'm feared now.

I wouldn't be the only one scared of me.

There were some times, though, when my daydreams turned into nightmares. Another thing I did to waste time was playing video games. Those were the days in which my mind would drift off to places I'd rather not see.

Thoughts are a dangerous thing sometimes. They can create a place full of wonder, enlighten you with creativity and magic. They can turn your life into a miracle. Thing is that we tend to rely on this other world. Reality is grim, especially when you're like me. When you have to raise yourself, when you've got to teach yourself everything you've got to know, when you've got all this love and sadness and joy and sorrow inside of you, but nowhere to put it, no one to share it with, your brain is the only safe haven you got. I don't know what exactly it was that destroyed this enchanted world for me. I don't remember when my safe haven turned into a prison. Sometimes I'd wake up and my mind would start to wander. I'd lie there, unable to move, staring into the distance. I'd always realize what was happening to me, but despite my attempts to break out, despite the fact that I was screaming "get up" inside, my body wouldn't react.

I don't remember when I became this person, but I think that was the beginning of the end for me.

So on these days when I finally managed to get up, but my mind wouldn't let me be, I'd sit down and lose myself in someone else's fantasy.

Video games are amazing, because in contrast to books you get to actually be part of the story. Everything is still scripted and your actual choices are limited, but for these few hours you spend with the controller in your hand, you get to be someone else.

Don't you sometimes wish your real life was like that, too?

Gantz seems like a video game: Kill the target, get points, get your reward. No wonder Finn dimwit Hudson thought of this as a game. No wonder Nishi was trying to restart his life.

I really wish it were true, especially in moments like this one right now. Brittany is standing in the middle of the room. She's standing there, looking at Gantz and I know I caused her death and it's tearing me apart. It's killing me that I killed her and the worst thing about it is that a part of me is happy that she's here with me now.

She died, but she's not dead. She'll get her chance to go back home.

Home.

I can go home now.

And then I'm not sure if Gantz is really the best alternative to being dead. When I killed myself I didn't want to come back. But Gantz gave me a cruel choice:

Go back home and face your life, the life you tried to escape from.

Or

Die again on someone else's terms.

Contrary to popular belief, those who commit suicide aren't gluttons for pain. Before I did it I did some research on the internet to find a way that would hurt as little as possible.

I could have stolen one of my dad's syringes and injected myself air, but people in the forums said that would feel like burning up from the inside.

I could have put a bullet in my head, but the chance of me missing and just going blind or something was too big. I didn't want to survive and be crippled.

I could have cut my wrists. It's a classic. But if you do it wrong you'll just cut an important tendon and end up with a stiff thumb. No thanks.

If you hang yourself, though... you just have to do it slowly, put some cloth between your neck and the chord and you won't feel a thing. Instead of jumping from a chair you lower yourself very slowly, have the rope tighten gradually. Most people don't even use the ceiling. They attach their rope to the door handle and, sitting down next to the door, inch down, sliding into eternal sleep.

I didn't put so much effort into sparing myself the pain, freeing myself from my own violent mind just to wake up in a world that's even more cruel than anything I could have imagined.

So in moments like this when Brittany is standing there in the middle of the room I really wish life was a video game.

I could hit reset and do it all over again.

_Game over._

_Restart? Yes. No._

I'd have a choice.

And now that she's looking at me and my heart starts to race and tears start welling up in my eyes, all I want to do is to

_Pause._

I close my eyes and try to think. I can't focus, but it doesn't matter now that I've stopped everything. I've got all the time in the world.

_Resume._

"I'm back," she says and I have no idea what that means. She looks between Finn and me and asks, "I should have known Gantz wouldn't give up on me. So... which one of you did it?" She stares at Finn, but he lifts his hand and points at me. Thanks, asshole.

When her eyes find mine this time I feel myself shake. I lower my gaze. I'm unworthy of her blue piercing me. "I didn't mean... I..." I stutter, but she just walks up to me and lifts my chin with her index finger and forces me to look at her.

"I know," she says. "Gantz did it, not you."

And suddenly her arms are around me.

_Pause._

She's not mad. She's not even a little upset. I'm a murderer and she doesn't mind? And she's hugging me! Her arms feel warm and her chin on my shoulder is like the best thing in the world. She really is an angel.

_Resume._

"I'm sorry," I manage to blurt out.

Then it really hits me. She's not upset. "Welcome back"? How does she know about Gantz?

"You've been here before," I say and take a step back to look at her.

"Yea," she responds. "I got a hundred points and chose to go home and have my memory erased."

Well, apparently not fully.

"Gantz must have been upset with me for remembering pieces and decided to bring me back." She walks over to the black orb and knocks on it with a sarcastic smile. "The little bastard doesn't like it when someone in the real world knows too much."

If I was puzzled before I'm entirely confused now. How can she not even be upset that she's dead?

But Gantz interrupts my thoughts as the 100 point menu pops up on the screen.

It says:

"Option 1: Have your memory erased and be set free.

Option 2: Weapon upgrade.

Option 3: Revive someone from the database."

That's it. I can go home.

Home.

That's all I've ever wanted.

Right?

I look back to where Brittany's standing and the lump in my throat just won't disappear. The expression on her face is calm. She's waiting. She looks me right in the eye, but this time she doesn't trap me with her gaze. Instead she's just standing there, waiting for me to choose an option.

I don't even really know this girl so why am I so intrigued by her? What is that? If I go back home, will my fate be the same as hers? Or will I truly be free? Will I be able to leave everything behind? I could quit fighting! I could quit being miserable all the time! Or would Gantz have me killed, too? Is this the end of my journey?

I've got make a choice.

" _Why do you want to go back?"_

 _Her_  question suddenly rings loudly in my ears. It's a voice from my past. It's a voice I remember as clearly as my own. Before, whenever she talked to me I failed to find an answer. But this time  _her_ question gives me the solution to another problem, because suddenly I know exactly what I've got to do.

I can't go.

Not now.

I know that Puck wants me to revive Nishi, but that's not what I'm going to do. Gantz has played enough tricks on me. She made me kill Brittany. She made me become a murderer. Before I can go back to life I've got to take my life back into my own hands. And I won't do that alone.

"Gantz," I say as I step forward.

"I choose option three: Revival."

The menu with the people who died appears, but I already know who I'm going to call back.

"Quinn Fabray."


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn Fabray

"Option three. Revival. Quinn Fabray."

* * *

Quinn was summoned here shortly after Nishi's death and unlike any other person I'd met in the realms of Gantz she didn't seem to be totally boring. She was scared, sure, but that was only fair considering the circumstances.

She was a fast learner and I even had some fun teaching her a couple of things. Despite her girly appearance she turned out to be quite a ruthless fighter and managed to gather 56 points before her death.

Blonde hair was the first thing I saw when she arrived. It soon fell in short locks around a face I wouldn't hesitate to call pretty. Well, stunning, actually. Her yellow pinafore summer dress made me raise an eyebrow and combined with her mary-janes, she seemed unreal. She was a doll, completely out of this world. When she finally stood in the room with me it was like someone had called her just to mock me, just to remind me of what I would never be. Knowing Gantz, this wouldn't be too far off.

She stood there and if someone had switched off the lights I'm sure she would have been glowing in the dark. Her hazel eyes searched the room with something that resembled calm confidence. I later learned it had just been habit; one of many things her parents had beaten into her. It was one of those upper class tactics; something they teach their perfect little puppets. It worked, though: Much later she told me she'd been completely freaked out, but just from looking at her I would never have guessed. She seemed superior. She seemed like a leader.

"Am I not dead?" was the first thing her sugary (and yet not sweet) voice said to me.

I stood there with my mouth agape and couldn't believe my eyes or ears. Why did Gantz even bother sending me someone like her? Surely she wouldn't even touch a weapon. Her nails were polished and her skin looked soft like satin. She was definitely the rich spoiled type. Her kind didn't, well, work. She'd probably be too afraid of getting dirt on her clothes to come near any enemy. Only when she locked eyes with me for a split second was I able to make out a fierce flicker behind her façade. I smiled when I recognized this same flicker in myself. She was just a normal teenager after all. She had anger buried in her guts, just like me. The world had failed her, too.

I didn't understand her true potential until she picked up a weapon, though. Carefully she weighed the gun in her hand while looking over to a katana lying nearby, obviously considering which one would fit her best. When she found her suit she shot me a glance and eyed me up.

When I'm with Gantz I still wear my normal clothes over my suit. The suit makes me look like some kind of cosplayer and I can move just as well in my every day attire, so I hide my uniform the best I can. Quinn's eyes lingered on my boots for a few seconds and without any further comment she stripped naked and put on her suit. Picking up her dress she looked at me again and I realized I had been staring. "What?" she snapped. "It's just us, right? No need to be embarrassed." I huffed and turned my head.

Quinn just tossed her dress aside and picked up the X-rifle. Excellent choice. "How do you use these?" Strangely enough she was the only one who ever asked me that.

She was the rich type, sure, but I had to learn that she was far from being spoiled. She was clever. She was just a fucked up mess like me and violence had shaped her, too. Quinn wasn't someone you messed with.

I saw her real face in our very first battle together. She was such a bundle of frustrated energy that her suit started to work almost right away. As we were sent into battle she scanned the area like she had scanned the room before and it didn't take her longer than a few seconds to take in the absurdity of the situation. "A museum. Of course." was her only comment.

Without another word she raised her weapon and fired at one of the dinosaur sculptures, ignoring the red satin cords that were meant to keep curious hands away. To be fair, though, technically our hands never touched anything.

Quinn flinched as the sculpture's head exploded and pieces of burnt flesh were scattered all over the place. Her eyes went wide for a second when suddenly all the other thirty-five sculptures in the museum came to life. To be honest, I was shocked, too. We both started to run and I realized that my blonde teammate must have had some experience with violence, because she took a few blows before her suit reacted, and although a dinosaur's tail hit her square on her rib cage, leaving her gasping for air, she only blinked a few times before getting back up. She took revenge on the creature immediately.

It was a long fight, lots of blood and guts and blows to the head and all that stuff. Quinn was amazing, though. I particularly remember her grabbing my hand after I had slid feet first through a foursome of stegosaurus legs, firing my gun at its torso on my way. She pulled me up and I didn't even have time to comprehend what was happening before I found myself running with her at a speed that was impossible for the average human. But Quinn and I, we weren't average human beings.

I heard the body behind me explode and estimated the points in my head before realizing why we were running. "Don't slow down!" Quinn yelled. I risked a peek backwards and saw the small group of raptors following us. "You don't have to tell me twice!" I shouted back.

"These are the last ones," I stated and she understood. I pulled her towards the staircase and we ran all the way upwards to the rooftop. Despite our speed our enemies managed to come close enough to snap at our feet a couple of times. I shot two of them on my way up, which left us with just two more. Still they came too close for my liking.

Although Quinn was without a doubt stronger than I'd expected, she still lacked my experience. On the rooftop she tried to stop, thinking this would be the battle arena. Instead, I dragged her to the edge of the rooftop and I could see the fear grow in her eyes when I let our enemies close in on us.

Those raptors may have been fast, but they were also stupid. They didn't notice that we were slowing down on purpose. They didn't realize I had not led us into a dead end. They were too eager to stop when at the last second I jumped off the rooftop, pulling Quinn down with me, and twisted my body until I was facing skyward. Fortunately Quinn was a fast thinker so she quickly did the same. Our fiends dumbly jumped right after us. Suddenly finding themselves mid-air, they started flailing like the mindless animals they were, and Quinn and I used the opportunity to shoot.

Six seconds later the transport began and our bodies hit laminate instead of asphalt.

I couldn't help but laugh when I saw the shocked expression on her face and when she managed to will her jaw off the floor she joined in just before starting to cry.

"I'm dead," she sobbed. "Why is this happening to me?"

She crawled over to me and buried her face in my lap.

I had no clue how to react.

I remember how my fingers started to twitch and my palms became sweaty. What would it feel like to touch her back or stroke her hair? What would happen if I gave her comfort? Did I even know how to do that? Can you pass something on that has never been given to you?

While I sat there, awkwardly holding my hands up in the air, trying not to touch anything, she just kept crying into my lap.

"Please," she begged and I finally wrapped my arms around her.

And with that, Quinn Fabray caused all my walls to crumble.

* * *

At point 15, she dyed her hair pink and changed her clothing style entirely. She wasn't the girly girl I'd gotten to know anymore. Instead I was greeted by a punk chick in ragged jeans when I materialized in Gantz' apartment.

"I figure the rules of society don't apply to me anymore anyway," she shrugged as I stared. "And I really needed a change."

I smirked and simply commented: "Fierce."

There was a silent understanding between the two of us that we'd never question each other. I respected her and she respected me. We never asked each other anything personal. I figured that whatever her intentions were, whatever past she'd left behind, if she wanted me to know about all that, she'd just tell me.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't care, though. Quinn wasn't like the others I had encountered in the realms of Gantz. I considered her a friend.

* * *

At point 34 we had been fighting together for half a year. After we had been transported back this one time she sat down on the wooden floor and shook her head: "Santana," she said without looking at me. "How do you do it?" I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure what she was talking about.

Then hazel eyes found mine. She seemed sad when she spoke again: "I didn't just die, Santana. I took my own life."

There was an awkward silence, which I used to ponder on a possible answer, but she went first: "Just half a year ago I wanted nothing more than to die. The last thing I remember is downing my mom's pill supply together with the contents of my dad's hidden cabinet. And yet here I am, fighting for my life, fighting to one day be able to go back. Why? My life was miserable. Why would I want to go back?"

Was she expecting me to answer? I shrugged and turned my head, but sat down next to her nonetheless. A part of me was angry that she had ruined the dynamic of our team. Another part just wanted to wrap my arms around her. I wanted to cry and tell her everything about me. Deep down, though, I knew our time together would end, if not soon, then someday. Eventually I'd be alone again.

"Why do you want to go back?"

Her question still rings loudly in my ears and I always fail to find an answer.

* * *

At point 56 I was almost convinced that we could make it together.

When that claw hit Quinn and reality hit me I didn't know what to think. I saw her going down and it was like all the hopes I had never let myself have came crashing down on me. All of a sudden I was forced to face the fact that I cared about her. It made me realize that despite everything I was still that teenage girl who wanted nothing more than to belong.

I had let my guard down, and after what had happened with Nishi I should have known better.

It was terrifying to see Quinn like that, bleeding heavily, panting, crying, begging. I had seen so many people die but I had never cared about anyone before. I had never felt anything but emptiness. Before Quinn, all the people who were called by Gantz had always just been faceless creatures to me. Nishi had taught me not to rely on anyone, not to trust anyone, not to bond with anyone. He had taught me what it was like to be dead inside.

But Quinn had invaded my shell by insisting on being someone. On being someone  _to me_.

I knew my only chance of saving her was to kill the enemy, but when I turned to go, she screamed: "Please don't go!" Against my better judgement I stopped. I turned back around. I knelt down beside her.

"You won't be fast enough," she said between sobs. "We're cheating death anyway. Maybe it's time for me to let go."

I wish I would have known what to tell her. But I've never been good with emotions. I've never been good with sweet words. I only know insults.

When she took my hand I didn't withdraw it. It was the only thing I could give her and apparently it was enough. She calmed down immediately. It wouldn't be long. "Santana," she said. "Do you think this is a coincidence?" I furrowed my eyebrows, but she continued before I could say anything: "You and me meeting here. Do you think it's a coincidence?"

Of course it was. What else could it be?

She started to cough and her breathing became shallow. She only had a few seconds left.

When she opened her eyes one last time to look at me I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers. I don't even know why I did it. I wasn't in love with her or anything. It wasn't a romantic moment and even though her lips were as soft as they could be there were no fireworks or violins playing. My heart didn't do the back flips it's supposed to do when you kiss someone. In fact, it was aching more than ever.

I guess I just really suck at saying good bye.

She grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me back, lips closed, eyes clenched shut and tears running down her cheeks. They mixed with mine.

Her hand was buried deeply in my hair and with each second that passed I buried our friendship more deeply into the back of my brain. Nishi had taught me not to let anyone in and it was then that I truly understood why.

It was the end of me.

When I pulled back she was already gone.


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I used to laugh at pathetic fools who relied on friends and spent time bonding with teammates?
> 
> Yea, who's laughing now?

Pink hair is the first thing I see when Quinn materializes now. It's been such a long time since we last saw each other that seeing her now seems so surreal, so abstract that it's like I'm looking at a canvas of a sunset. She's so far away, although she's standing right there in front of me. I blink a few times to reassure myself that she's really there.

Her outlines come into focus: the tip of her fingers and the confused frown on her face. Her nose is scrunched up slightly and she licks her lower lip. It's her, without a doubt. And without a doubt we're not thinking the same thing.

The last thing I remember is Brittany's embrace.

The last thing Quinn remembers is my kiss.

She glows with life like I've never seen on anybody and I can only guess that it's because she's been dead to me. Now pure energy seems to radiate from her.

Maybe it's life that's still trying to get used to being with her again. Like her soul's not accustomed to having a vessel again; like it's trying to escape through her pores.

But she holds onto it tight and refuses to vanish. She's here, now more than ever.

She turns her head and the moment she sees me she tears up and plunges forward and wraps herself around me. "I'm back," she says. "It was you, wasn't it? I knew I could count on you."

Whoa, easy there. I'm not that predictable.

Am I?

She takes a step back and wipes at her eyes. "Got something in my eye," she comments with a contagious smile. I remember that smile. I remember it so clearly that actually seeing it again seems unreal. As if my eyes were playing tricks on me and the next time I blinked she'd be gone.

Then she punches my shoulder with her fist and reminds me of how real she is indeed. Without dropping her smile she furrows her eyebrows and says: "Quite a move you pulled on me there."

For a second I wonder what she's talking about, but she steps closer again and almost whispers: "I forgive you. Just don't kiss-attack me again. I'm not  _that_  into that."

Oh, right.

"Don't worry. Me, neither," I reply and she smirks again when she sees me blush.

"So, what'd I missed?"

I'm not sure what to tell her. Everything. Nothing. I mean, not much has actually changed since she died. I've been going on missions like before, getting points like before and being mocked by Gantz like before.

"Same ol' story," I shrug.

This is not the time to tell her about Brittany and it's surely not the time to ask her about her website.

"Shit, Rachel!" I gasp when the exit appears and it earns me a frown from both Quinn and Brittany. But I can't deal with any of that right now.

"Look," I say, "We'll catch up, I promise. Right now I gotta make sure a tiny dork doesn't ruin my reputation at work."

As I'm about to click the device on my neck, though, Brittany grabs my hand and I freeze. I have no idea how she managed to come this close to me, but suddenly her face is only inches from mine. "Wait," she says and I obey. "Let me come with you."

Before I can say anything I hear Quinn say: "I've been dead for I don't know how long now. Do you really think I'm just going back to my parents' place? I'm going with you, too. Besides, if we're a team now we need headquarters."

Headquarters? No way. It's still my freaking apartment and with Rachel ignoring my boundaries I've got enough on my plate already.

But Brittany smiles at me and I forget to object. "We're going to have so much fun!" she squeals and if it weren't for the back flip my heart just performed I'd call her out on her insanity. Fun? Really?

"Hold up."

Right. I completely forgot about Finn.

"I can't go home," he says. "Everyone thinks I'm dead. I can't just walk back through the front door and pretend nothing happened."

He approaches us and I instinctively take a few steps back.

"Where am I supposed to go?"

He looks broken, shattered actually. The latest turn of events was not what he'd expected, either. The expression on his face tells me he's sorry for what happened. Or maybe he's just sorry for his own lame ass. And I even have some sympathy, because he killed himself. If nothing else, we have that connection.

But I'd rather poke my eyeballs out with a blunt knife than have him sleep in the same room with me, or Brittany, the person he tortured, for that matter.

"Away," I comment and turn to the door. Quinn's already invisible when I grab Brittany's arm, click the device on my neck and walk us outside.

* * *

As it turns out having three roommates isn't as awful as I thought it would be. Rachel apparently spent the day shopping so she's now got a mattress of her own as well as clothes and towels.

Neat.

Except that we're now four people with two mattresses and the whole sharing my stuff thing's kinda getting out of hand. Remember when I used to laugh at pathetic fools who relied on friends and spent time bonding with teammates?

Yea, who's laughing now?

The moment Quinn and Brittany entered my apartment the whole atmosphere around us changed. I swear I felt reality shift and turn and slip away for a second, just to come back renewed. Because as much as I want to hate the whole situation - being stuck with three people in an one-room apartment, without privacy, without a spot to hide, without my fucking own sleeping space - I can't.

When I killed Brittany and revived Quinn the rules of the game changed. I never trusted Gantz, but I respected her rules and I played along. I obeyed, because I never had anything to lose. I sacrificed myself, my sanity and my only friend to Gantz just for this one promise. I kept playing, thinking I could earn my right to live again.

My life was worth a hundred points.

Now that's been taken away from me. Gantz betrayed me and my life's worth shit.

And I'll take this shit and make it mine. I did what Nishi taught me and that failed. Of course I didn't count on Gantz changing the rules. Maybe it's time to learn some new rules.

Even if I tried, with Quinn back in my life, with Brittany breaking through all my walls, and with Rachel insisting on talking all the freaking time, it's impossible to keep up my old ways. Even though I'm still lonely, even though I'm still a prisoner of my mind, I'll never be alone again.

* * *

I'm rearranging the room, making space for the second mattress. The others were supposed to help me, but instead Quinn decided to throw a pillow into Rachel's face with a challenging grin. Brittany picked up on that quickly and now I got three girls bouncing across the room, trying to hit each other with pillows.

I look up when I hear Rachel shriek. Quinn is hugging her from behind now, gripping her wrists and making sure Rachel can't hit her. Both are grinning and giggling like fools while Brittany is doubled over with laughter. It's sort of cute and sort of annoying. All three of them had an instant connection, like they'd known each other for years, and what's even weirder is that somehow I'm included. When I was alive I never had a single friend and suddenly I have three and I didn't even try. But they decided that I'm their friend and I didn't have a say in it.

To be honest, though, I'm kind of glad no one asks me about my opinion.

A pillow hits my spine hard and forces me out of my thoughts. Next thing I know I'm lying face down on the floor and Brittany is lying right on top of me. "Gotcha," she giggles and as much as I hate being dragged into their game I can't hate her dragging me into it. "No one's ever managed to ambush me," I giggle (I mean, I fucking  _giggle)._ "I guess I'm special," she shrugs and apparently has no intention of getting up.

Her breath hits my neck and I gulp. Whatever it is that I wanted to say has escaped my mind. I don't even find the words to tell her that she's hurting me a little.

"Wanna go outside?" she asks quietly. "Why?" I respond and it's the weirdest thing ever, because I've never questioned anything she's done, but the prospect of spending some alone time with her is…

…oh, it's actually scary.

But she's three steps ahead of me and drags me by the arm and pulls me up and outside before I can retreat back into the safety of my thoughts again. "C'mon," she chirps and it's sort of a relief not having to make all the decisions.

We sit down outside leaned against the wall next to the door. It's a row of one-room apartments, each one shittier than the next. Sometimes you can hear people fight through the doors. Sometimes you even hear dishes break. Every now and then scantily-clad girls come and go. I'm always thankful that I never manage to hear any of those noises through the walls.

"Sorry about the shitty view," I say, because it's the only thing I can come up with at the moment. We're looking at a parking lot and there's a construction site to the left that seems to be abandoned, because I don't recall ever seeing anyone actually work there. They just dug this massive hole into part of the lot and then I guess their funding ran out or something. Or maybe they just forgot about it. I can't even blame them. I'd try to forget about this place as well.

"I felt like we should leave Quinn and Rachel alone for a while," Brittany replies, ignoring my lame attempt at small talk. I agree with her, though. The moment Quinn saw Rachel she blushed. The moment Rachel saw Quinn she shut up, which was kinda mind blowing and totally worth having another roommate. They've been all over each other since then and I can only hope they'll get their shit together soon so we can move on to more important issues.

"Yea," I answer.

There's an awkward silence, which I have caused without a doubt. But there's really only one thing I want to talk about with Brittany and at the same time I want to avoid that topic forever.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" I finally blurt out.

"For what?"

I close my eyes and hope she's not seriously making me say it.

Fortunately she interprets my expression correctly.

"Santana", she says and scoots closer. So close, in fact, that her side is now flush against mine. I pull my knees up to rest my cheek on them and look at her, waiting for whatever is coming next. Maybe she really does hate me and just can't show it, because we're stuck in this together. Maybe she's already planning her revenge. "You didn't kill me." Yes I did. But she continues: "Gantz killed me. I'm not stupid. I remember how it happened. I remember how the chair hit me and the sound of glass breaking and I clearly remember falling. I know I wasn't shot. I know you didn't shoot me. If you wanted to kill me, you would have shot me. Gantz wanted me dead. Probably because I knew too much. And maybe because a part of me wanted to come back."

That's…strange. I furrow my eyebrows. "You did?"

She nods and adds: "When I reached a hundred points my memory was erased, but something still compelled me to start investigating. I was so intrigued by death that the concept of Gantz immediately got my attention when I saw the website. I guess once you're in this, you're in this. Also,"

And there it is again. This stare of hers that pierces right through me, traps me, binds me to her and lets me forget everything else. "Even though Gantz called me back you're not the one who killed me. I died three and a half years ago in a car accident."

"Sorry." It's the only thing I can think of, but Brittany just shrugs.

"It's just weird, you know. You'd think I'd be desperate to go back to my old life, but I'm somehow not. I'm just not..." She hesitates and bites her lower lip. "… ready," she finally says and it sends a chill down my spine that I have no explanation for.

Ready.

Odd.

Then Brittany bumps her shoulder against mine and playfully smiles at me.

"Do you think this is a coincidence? You and me meeting here?"

Wait,  _what_?

The door opens and Quinn appears. "There you are," she says with a big grin on her face. "We were wondering where you two had disappeared to."

"Right," I comment. "And it only took you like half an hour to even notice we were gone."

Quinn shrugs off my remark with an I-don't-give-a-fuck-half-smile and turns to Brittany. "Would you mind finishing that pillow fight with Rachel for me?"

Brittany looks puzzled and I roll my eyes at Quinn. As if pillow fighting was what they'd been doing. It takes a few seconds before Brittany catches on. "Oh," she finally says. "Sure."

I watch her go back inside. From where I'm sitting her legs seem to go on for days and the spring in each of her steps causes hurricanes within my stomach. She's elegant and swift and just so… alive.

Quinn plops down beside me, one leg stretched out, one bent up. She rests one elbow on it and the way she looks at me is kind of heartbreaking, because it's like she doesn't know she's been dead. It's like she spent the whole time sitting here next to me in front of my apartment and I didn't go on fighting without her, alone. I never made all these vows to never trust anyone again, to never let anyone close. I never built this box made of bitterness and filled it with what was left of my humanity and stored it in the darkest corner of my soul so no one could touch it.

She was never gone.

"So, we should talk about the elephant in the room, huh?" she says.

"Pass. Rachel's your problem." I deadpan. "And to be honest, I don't think her nose is  _that_  big. You're just being mean."

Quinn punches my shoulder. She should really quit doing that, because once I decide to punch back things will get ugly.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

And I do. She knows me well enough to understand that me bringing her back is more than just a friendly gesture. I've sacrificed my way out and now she wants to know why.

"It's complicated," I say.

"Well, I've got time." She doesn't even blink, just challenges me with her eyes.

I inhale sharply. There's a lot to say, because there's a lot of stuff I've been thinking about; too much to put into coherent sentences; too much to capture everything in a couple of words. And everything that's happened since Quinn's death, every pain I've felt, every conclusion I've reached, every person who's died, every time Gantz mocked me, Brittany and Rachel and Puck and work and home and dad and even Finn, it all bubbles up to the surface and forms a knot in my brain and on my tongue. All I want to do is to take this knot and leave it as it is, tangled up in a giant black ball of mind and mystery and throw it to Quinn's feet. There. I'll leave it to you to pull at those strings and sort them out until they make sense.

I don't want to have to explain anything. It's just too much.

But Quinn's gaze lies calm on my face. She'll be waiting forever if she has to. Eventually I've got to start somewhere.

So I open my mouth and I start at the beginning.


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I understand you now, Nishi. And I'll never be like you.

The next day Quinn tells me everything about her website. It was originally planned as a platform to gather information. She'd hoped that our black orb wasn't the only one or that maybe someone else knew something about it; that someone could tell her what Gantz actually is. She wanted people to contribute rather than putting gossip out there.

But that suicide pact? Definitely not her idea.

When I show her the site she can barely keep her eyes from popping out of their sockets. She goes completely pale and spends the rest of the day browsing through the comments section, reading and re-reading the rumors people posted and dates people announced to kill themselves.

Turns out these pacts are not about coming together as a group, but rather helping each other to find the strength to actually do it. The site is full of 'encouraging' words like "Life's got nothing to offer anymore. Gantz is the answer," "Think about the powers you'll gain," and "Don't give up now. Remember everything you've been through. Remember that you can make it stop."

"This is the worst thing ever," she keeps mumbling as she scrolls through the pages. "I'm de-activating the comments section as soon as I'm finished reading."

I know her well enough to know she's gonna go through every single entry. She's always had this weird sense of honor. Somehow she feels like she owes it to the people on there to read every single sentence they wrote. She opened this arena and she's going to pay her respects to each and every one who came to take part. If she can't take it back at least she's going to pay attention to everyone's history. Those people on her website existed and even though they died, they'll go on existing in Quinn's guilty conscious.

It's quite a painful journey and her face looks grey and worn-out when she's done. She doesn't say a word; instead she just deletes the whole comments section and only leaves an e-mail account open, asking people to send her information if they know anything.

"This is the opposite of what I was hoping for," she finally says, burying her face in her palms. We all sit there quietly for a while, and as disappointed as I am that Quinn hasn't turned out to be the source of information I'd hoped she'd be, my sympathy for her grief is greater.

The only thing Brittany had actually found out during her investigations was that the people who had posted on Quinn's site and disappeared shared a history of depression. Not much to work with considering they all killed themselves.

Eventually we decide to stop updating the page, but not to take it down completely, either. Maybe someday we'll be lucky and get an e-mail with something useful.

* * *

The next week goes by extremely slowly. Quinn and Brittany both start working at Sheets 'n Things, a little store run by a crazy blonde woman; she's one of those 'Lima Losers' who were born here and who're going to die here. But the pay is fair and the work is easy, and with the extra income we might be able to afford moving into a bigger apartment soon.

The outside wall next to the front door becomes somewhat of a regular meeting spot. At first I used it to get away for a while. It's still kinda awkward living with three other people in one room. Between battles, my apartment, as run down as it is, had always served as my quiet place in this lousy world. But with Quinn, Brittany and Rachel here, the only chance of having a moment of quiet had been to go outside my apartment and sit by the door. Until the others discovered my hiding spot.

Of course Quinn had been the first one to find me. It turns out she's actually really pleasant to have around, because just like me she loves to just be. When we sit there next to each other we only talk very occasionally. Sometimes she bumps my knee with her own or offers me a cigarette. I always tell her that I can't afford getting lung cancer and ignore the mocking look she gives me. "Yea, I'm gonna quit, too," she always says before lighting one and although she never mentions it, I can tell it's because Rachel doesn't like it. Whenever Quinn does talk, though, I can feel this old connection that I had with her before she died. She knows what issues not to tackle, and we never talk about the missions. It's light small talk, with the few exceptions when out of nowhere she comes up with something super profound. With her punk look distracting me it's easy to forget that she's probably read more books than anyone else at McKinley High, including the teachers. In another life, or just life, she could've become a writer or an editor or something equally smart.

"You know, San," she says on one of these occasions, "They say we're terrified of the idea of being terrified." I'm never sure what to do with these smart-ass statements of hers so I usually choose to stay quiet and as usual she just continues, lost in thought: "I should be terrified, too, considering everything, but I'm somehow not. All these people who commented on my website," her eyes go dark for a second as she stares out into the distance, "they were afraid of death, but what really terrified them was the prospect of staying alive." And she looks at me again with that sad smile she gets whenever she thinks about the life she left behind and adds: "I was terrified of the future and I was terrified of the past and now that I've given up on both of those sometimes I just feel empty. Sometimes I wish all my fears would come back."

I know what she means. I know it all too well. This nothing's been taking over everything for me as well and I used to embrace it, mistake it for safety. That's over, though. Because I'm taking everything back.

"We'll work on that," I tell her. "I've been betrayed and I'm planning on getting back at Gantz. I don't know how, yet, but I'll figure something out. And if you want, we can even get your precious fears back."

That earns me a small laugh. She leans her head on my shoulder, but only briefly. It's just a gesture, but it's nice nonetheless. "I know you don't believe in destiny and I've been thinking about that. Maybe you're right. Maybe fate is just an illusion. Maybe we tell ourselves that there's a master plan so we can avoid the burden of making all the wrong decisions."

Yea, maybe.

"Maybe it's all about the choices we make instead. Maybe that's the only thing we're really terrified of; that it's really all on us and not on anybody else."

I don't think I've ever been more terrified of anything before.

* * *

One time Rachel shyly walks up to me and asks if she can take a seat. I bite back a remark about the lack of seats around and just shrug. Rachel's the kind of girl who never runs out of things to say. It's really annoying most of the time, but in some odd way it's also something I admire. I've never been good with expressing what's inside my head. Sure, I can do insults; I'm not bad with words generally. But Rachel's head seems to be this organized archive and all she's got to do is think of something and she'll immediately have the matching vocabulary for it. She's never speechless, never short of words, never confused about what to say. I guess it's only annoying because that's so different than me.

So when she sits down, of course she starts to talk right away. "Santana," she says, "I want you to know that I'm really grateful for everything you've done."

I shrug again. "Don't mention it. No, seriously, don't  _ever_  mention it."

Rachel also has a habit of ignoring all my sarcasm. Fumbling with the hem of her shirt she continues: "It's important to me that you don't hate me."

I just look at her, unsure of what to respond. Yea, I act like I hate her…kinda. And I absolutely do my best to let her know that I couldn't care less about her. But she's probably not so convinced of that anymore since I let her live with me and saved her ass and helped her find a job and lend her my stuff and all that; maybe I'm not so convinced myself anymore, either.

"I know you've been alone for a long time now and you'd rather not have anyone around. But we're here now and despite everything you say to me I regard you as my friend. Maybe you're the first real friend I've ever had."

Her eyes are glistening and as much as I'd want to ignore it, I can't. "I don't hate you, 'Cakes," is all I manage to answer. I feel my voice shake a little and quickly clear my throat.

Rachel beams at me with a smile way out of proportion to my lame declaration and jokes: "Now I'm not sure if you're talking to me or if you just want me to make you breakfast."

That actually makes me chuckle. "Could be both."

To be honest, she reminds me of what Nishi had told me shortly before he died. When he went down and started to cry and it was clear that he wouldn't make it his last words were: "I never hated anyone, not personally. I just hate society." Back then I thought it was pretty pathetic. I thought he deserved to die. A part of me still does. That's the part that's mad at him for betraying me.

I understand you now, Nishi. And I'll never be like you.

When Rachel gets back up she still hasn't dropped her smile. I'm extremely close to insulting her just to wipe it off her face, you know, out of principle. I restrain myself, though and as she opens the door she turns back around once more and comments in a challenging tone: "I'm glad. Especially because Quinn and I are dating now. I really want my girlfriend and my best friend to get along."

She's smart enough to quickly close the door behind her before I can respond.

* * *

The encounters - as I like to call them - with Brittany are a lot lighter. She comes to join me whenever I'm about to drift off into dark thoughts, as if she's able to sense them coming; it's like she's a positive to my negative and she keeps me here, preventing me from getting lost. Ever since she moved in I haven't had a single moment in which I felt sad or lonely. It's beyond remarkable how lively she is.

It becomes pretty clear that she doesn't think very highly of boundaries and personal space. In fact, she's an over-sharer and for some reason can't keep her hands to herself.

Right now she's talking about something school related, I think. I'm not sure, because, to be honest, I'm having a hard time listening to what she says when her arm's around my back and her hand's holding on tightly to my waist. I hear the word "cheerleading" and try to focus on that instead of her fingers pressing into my flesh.

"Your heart's racing."

What?

It takes a few seconds before my brain manages to catch on. She giggles and repeats: "Your heart's racing. I can hear it all the way over here." 'Here' is actually not too far away from my chest, which may or may not be the reason for the loud hammering of my pulse.

She presses her ear against my chest, which is really unfair, because my heart increases its speed immediately. She chuckles when I try to inch away. "No, I want to hear it."

God.

I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall behind me and try to think of something entirely different. I try not to focus on her ear against my chest or the scent of her hair or the fact that she's practically sitting in my lap. I try to think of anything, but my mind is wiped clean and I fail to come up with a single thought.

"You're not good with this, huh?" she finally says when she leans back again and looks at me. For a brief moment I hope she doesn't notice that my face is flushed crimson and I'm pretty sure there's panic written all over it, too. Disappointment flashes across her face but is immediately replaced by a genuine smile.

"Don't worry. It's fine with me."

She sits back down next to me and takes my hand into hers. "I can wait," she states. I wish I could pretend I didn't know what she's waiting for, but unfortunately I do. And I have no idea if I'll ever be able to give it to her.

"I… I just…" I stutter.

I killed you. I killed you and you're not even mad at me. And that makes it even worse. You're not mad at me so I'm going to beat myself up for it instead and I'll continue to do so, because it's the only thing I know how to do right. I've never felt anything like this before and I have no clue what it is and I'm beating myself up for that as well. Because it's all I've ever been doing. That's how I lived and that's why I died. I killed you and that's all the damage I can do to you. I've got to punish myself for all the things I've done wrong and I can't let you be part of that. I can't pull you down with me.

"I know," she answers. "I told you I'll wait."

We stay outside for the rest of the day. She talks and I try to listen; she laughs and I smile at her; she looks at me and I blush. Her hand stays on mine until the sun's setting and I realize she's shivering.

Quinn cracks the door open and peeks her head outside. "Guys, Rachel made dinner and I'm sure it's vegan, but you should still come in or whatever."

Poor Quinn misses her bacon. That's what you get for getting involved with the dork. I'm only a little spiteful. Just a tiny bit.

* * *

It's pitch black when I open my eyes. For a second or two I'm not even sure if I'm awake until my brain catches on. Brittany is wrapped around me and grabs me tight and pulls me close.

I didn't really get to have a say in whom I share my mattress with; when Quinn had come back from the bathroom that first night she lay down next to Rachel as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And Rachel? She just glanced at her with a shy smile and lifted the covers. I hadn't spent much time thinking about who'd sleep where, to be honest. Only when Brittany practically jumped into bed next to me and put her arms around me and whispered a sweet, "Good night," did I realize I'd be spending my nights in bed with her. I don't know  _what_  that means, but it definitely feels like it means _something_.

I don't have an inch to move; surprisingly enough it doesn't bother me at all. Rachel used to spoon me, too, but the way she did it was clingy, like she needed me. I don't like to be needed. The way Brittany does it she's telling me we're equal. She holds on to me not because she needs to, but simply because she wants to. Rachel always asked for permission and kept up strict boundaries. Her touches were never really intimate. I could have been anyone, because anyone's touch could confirm she was really here. I was her anchor.

With Brittany I feel like she could let go any second, because she doesn't really need anyone. She's strong on her own. And yet, she chooses to hold on to me, to breathe into my back and to nuzzle my neck while fisting the fabric of my shirt. It's not demanding, either. If I told her to go, she'd go.

I don't think I'll ever tell her to.

"…uh…"

It's the quietest little sigh from way across the room and if I wasn't wide awake already I'd never have heard it. That was unmistakably Rachel's voice and I can't believe she's now even incapable of being quiet in her sleep.

"…oh…"

"Shh!"

Realization hits me and for a second I consider yelling at Quinn for fucking that dork in my presence. I'm mad, because they woke me and I don't like to be woken up in the middle of the night.

"…uhn…"

It's a tiny whimper followed by a series of what I can only guess are little pecks on Rachel's face.

"You have to be quiet," Quinn whispers and when she continues: "You're so beautiful." my anger fades. She isn't fucking the little dork. She's making love and although it's still highly inappropriate, hearing Quinn and Rachel making love to one another tugs at my heart.

After that it's only heavy breathing and flat panting and the smacking noises lips create when they meet skin.

It's something I've never experienced. It's something that I might never experience. I died before I got the chance. Then I remember that Rachel, too, is – was – a virgin before Gantz summoned her and suddenly I'm sad for all of us. There're too many things we'll never do or say or have in our lives. I'll never have anyone love me and who I can love back.

I can't be mad at Rachel. I envy her a little because, at least for a little while, she's able to forget that she's not alive. With Quinn she now has one good thing in this miserable world. And I can't be mad at Quinn, either. She's died twice. She deserves this piece of happiness even more than I would.

I hear Rachel sucking in air and holding it for a few seconds.

When she finally releases it with a little whimper something washes over me.

It evokes nostalgia. It reminds me of my past as flashes from the life I once had light up in my mind: There's my dad sitting across from me at the kitchen table. There're pictures of my mom showing off her baby bump. There's that girl at school I liked and who actually talked to me a couple of times. There's the way things could have been… under different circumstances. Then there's Quinn's sad smile as she confesses her suicide to me. I feel Brittany's arm around me, lying heavy on my rib cage. I hear Rachel sigh contently and I understand: I care.

I care about them. I care about us.

And it's not one of these "Oh I don't want to care but I still do" scenarios. It's not one of those "I think I care, but in reality I'm just sorry" things, either. I really fucking care with the intensity of the heat of the sun. It makes my mind race and my heart ache; to call it excruciating would be an understatement. It reminds me of why it's easier to fight alone and I swear if I had a choice I would.

But I have to accept that this choice has been taken from me. Nishi taught me to fight alone and Gantz brought me Quinn. Quinn died and again I followed Nishi's path until Gantz brought me Rachel and forced me to fight Brittany. Whenever I think I've figured everything out Gantz interferes. Whenever I found a way to deal with the cruelty of this game, Gantz changes the rules.

My stomach churns at the prospect of what will happen next. I care. Fuck. Now I've got everything to lose.

And I have Gantz against me.


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't postpone the inevitable forever.

It's the familiar ringing noise that indicates trouble.

* * *

I cough

I cry

I can't breathe

What's happening?

Dad?

Dad, I understand

But why is it always on me?

_You have to make a choice_

* * *

When I open my eyes I'm with Gantz and Puck's standing in front of me, naked as ever.

"Is this becoming a thing now, or what?" I snap at him, but he just stares. I aim my weapon at him, although it's an empty threat; he knows it and I know it. His face stays blank when he finally speaks up:

"I told you to revive Nishi."

"Well, too bad I don't listen to scumbags. I don't listen to anyone anymore."

He looks calm. Way too calm for my taste. I would beat this fucker up if it weren't for the prospect of having to touch his junk.

"Good," he says. "I'm on your side, you know. And she is, too."

Oh yea? Didn't look like it when she made me kill Brittany.

"I know you're confused. But she wants you to know that you're running out of time. You can't postpone the inevitable forever. You're almost there."

What's he talking about?

"What are you talking about?"

He just shakes his head. "She's giving you all these opportunities and you just… never mind. I can't tell you what to do. I'm afraid you're on your own now. Just… one thing."

He steps closer and I grip my gun so tightly my knuckles turn white.

"It's always been you. You need to quit. No, you need to continue. Damn it." He wipes at his brow and is obviously searching for the right words. "Just do something about all of this. You're the only one who can."

He steps back and I see my hands disappear. The transmission has already begun. The last thing I hear him say is: "It's about time, Santana."

* * *

"Wake up. It's about time, Santana."

I blink my eyes open and Brittany's hovering above me. But before I can process that, Quinn and Rachel come into my line of vision. Rachel decides it's a good idea to jump on the mattress next to me.

"Get up! You and Brittany need to go to school. Just because Quinn and I can't go doesn't mean that you get to skip."

So, was that encounter with Puck just a dream? Can this whole mess I'm in get any more confusing?

Scratching my head I wonder if Quinn would smack me if I ordered her girlfriend to make me breakfast.

I'm so not ready to start the day.

* * *

The longer Gantz makes me wait for my next mission the more restless I become. Even when I'm sitting in class, it feels like each second that passes increases the possibility of me being called back. I know that's nonsense, though, because I'm not gambling. Gantz decides when I'm supposed to fight; it's not a matter of chance.

This last fact adds to my restlessness because it reminds me that I'm not in charge. I feel helpless, wandering through a world I tried to leave behind, always with the prospect of being forced into another world I'd like to leave. Some say suicide is the ultimate act of narcissism. "If you can't live with dignity then you ought to die with dignity", as Quinn taught me. But the way I see it, if you don't have control over your life then at least you can control how you end it. I wanted to have control over my life. I wanted that. And that's the first thing Gantz took away from me.

And now it's even worse, because I have to worry not only about myself, but about three more lives. Rachel, Quinn and Brittany; I'm responsible for them because I'm the only one who can protect them. Maybe that's what Puck meant when he said it's always been me? Or did I really make it all up? Am I that much of a narcissist?

Pressing my fingertips against my temples I try to refocus on the class. Not that it matters, but I could use the distraction. All I see, though, is the empty seat two rows in front of me.

I haven't seen Finn around since I left him standing in the apartment. McKinley's hallways are full of gossip about his death, but no one really raises a fuss. He never got a mention in a local paper or even the school paper, for that matter. Not a single teacher talks about him. They just quietly erased him from all the attendance lists so no one ever has to say his name again. I can only guess that's what happened to me, too.

It's ironic, actually, if you consider what a bigwig he seemed to be when he was still alive. You'd think some of his loyal minions would miss him. Instead, no one even seems to notice that he's gone. Classes continue like they used to, the cheerleaders still cheer, the choirs still sing and life goes on the way it always has. Apparently being popular doesn't automatically mean that you're loved… or even wanted.

Later that day I have lunch with Brittany. We've been doing this since she moved in with me and it's weird, mostly because it doesn't feel weird at all. About a week ago I preferred having lunch on my own and now it almost feels like she's always been there.

She amazes me with her enthusiasm for everything except classes. She enjoys getting up for early morning runs; she likes Rachel's pancakes just as much as scrambled eggs; she likes it when the sun shines into her face and she likes catching drops of rain on her tongue; she likes talking to people and she even likes having lunch at school. And what she likes most of all is dancing.

"Dancing? Really?" I ask her, surprised. It's actually something I've always wanted to do; it's one of the things I never got the chance to try.

"Yea," she replies, shoving a fry into her mouth. "I've been taking classes since I was little. Why?"

"Oh. It's… uhm… just..."

She realizes I'm blushing and thankfully cuts me off: "I could teach you," she smirks knowingly. Why does she always know everything about me?

"I don't know. Wouldn't that be weird, considering…" a quick look around confirms that no one's paying attention. "…considering we're facing death?"

She just shrugs and shoves another fry into her mouth. "No," she says. "It'd be weird if we didn't try to enjoy ourselves." And I have to admit she's got a point there. "Look," she continues, "How about I teach you some dancing basics and you help me out with Spanish? Sound fair?"

I can't suppress my smile when I finally nod. "Ok."

She beams, but it only lasts a second, because some loser decides to empty his tray on to her plate and sneers: "Sorry, Brain, thought that was a trash can." He laughs and high fives his buddy.

I've already jumped up from my seat, ready to break his neck, when Brittany grabs my arm. "Thanks, but we don't want to draw attention." And as much as I hate it, she's right.

"Oh, screw this shit," I bark at no one in particular. When I turn to look at Brittany, her smile has vanished and I hate it. "C'mon," I say, reaching out my hand. "We're gonna go somewhere less crowded." She happily accepts my offer and I freeze when I realize that I'm holding her hand. I guess I can't take it back now? She glances around with a shy smile and it's so adorable that I immediately forget to be mad at myself for letting me like her.

And, yea, shit, I like her.

It's not a special place I lead us to, but it's quiet like I promised. No one ever comes to lurk around under the bleachers.

Brittany lets go of my hand first and it's a little disappointing and a little relieving. We sit down on the ground against a wall. I open my bag and hand her a spare sandwich I packed this morning, but she waves me off. "No, thanks, I'm good."

"Just take it. What if Gantz calls us back? You have to stay in shape."

She bursts into laughter and I have no idea what's going on. I'm sitting there with my sandwich and a frown on my face and she actually starts to snort and cry from laughing so hard.

"What's so funny?" I try to interrupt her and she wipes her eyes as she tries to catch her breath. When she's finally calmed down she clears her throat and says: "You are aware of the fact that I'm the more experienced fighter of the two of us, right?"

And that actually makes me chuckle, too.

"You don't have to look out for me, Santana. But I appreciate that you want to."

"Sorry," I say, "I was just being stupid."

Her face darkens and her voice sounds tiny when she speaks. "Please don't use that word. I don't like it."

Oh, shit.

"I'm sorry," I repeat. "I don't get it, though. Why do they all pick on you?"

She shrugs. "Why wouldn't they? I'm not as smart as everyone else."

"Everyone else sucks." It's the truth and she needs to know it. But she seems like she doesn't quite believe me, and maybe it's because I don't look at her when I say it. Instead I just stare at my feet.

"I actually like talking to people. I like being around people," she states.

"You really like a lot of things," I comment with a small smile. It's not even a criticism, because as much as I think that her worldview is pretty naïve I also find it pretty sweet.

"Yea, that's true," she answers. "But you want to know what I like best?"

Oh god, she's probably going to talk about something totally random and endearing like cats or unicorns or sunsets or her favorite kind of bubble gum.

When she says nothing, I look up and see that she's got a calm smile on her face. Her eyes are wide and the blue of her irides shines so bright it seems to light up everything around us.

"You."

This girl has a habit of catching me off-guard.

* * *

We don't have any classes together today so I spend a good portion of my time just staring out the window. Every now and then I overhear a conversation about college plans. I always try to ignore those, because college will never be an option for me. No need to burden myself with nonsense like that.

When the bell rings after my last class I'm beyond relieved. Not only was the last hour of geography pure torture, but I also kinda want to go home and see the others. Well, Brittany, mostly.

I hurry to my locker and stuff my books into it, which isn't exactly an easy task, because, let's be real, it's a mess. Maybe Rachel's right and I am a bit of a slob. Who cares?

Only this time the pile of books and shorts I thought I'd lost and nail files and other various items decide to fall out and spill across the hallway floor. Great.

Groaning to myself, I bend down and start picking everything up and tossing it back into my locker. Somehow my attempt to go home quickly turned out to actually slow me down.

I slam the door shut, spin on my heels, take a step forward and run right into someone.

Great.

The impact hit her worse than me and she's actually fallen and sitting on the floor. I rub my forehead and mumble a "Sorry."

But when I look up it's just Rachel. I offer her my hand and help her up. "What the hell, 'Cakes? I thought you had to work?" There's confusion written all over her face and she stares at me as if she's never seen me in her life.

"'Cakes?' Who are you?" she asks and it takes a few seconds before my brain manages to process those words.

"What? Don't fuck with me, Rachel."

As I take a step forward she takes a step back and furrows her eyebrows. "I don't think we've met before."

I want to yell at her that it's really not funny when I realize she's not wearing her suit, but some ugly argyle sweater and a pleated skirt. When did she buy that? Her outfit makes her look even dorkier than usual and with that notebook she's clutching in front of her chest she could pass for an average school girl. Only when she clears her throat do I realize that I've been openly staring.

"Well, if you'll excuse me. I've got to be somewhere… less creepy."

She's already speeding down the hall again and I'm still standing there completely puzzled over what just happened.

"Have you completely lost it?" I yell after her and she just quickens her pace.

Oh, hell no. She's not getting away that easily. It was Rachel without a doubt, but something was seriously off and I need to know what it was.

I take a quick look around and when I'm sure no one's paying attention I click the device on my neck. Thanks to Gantz, stalking people is a piece a cake.

Rachel's short legs move faster than I'd expected and although it's not hard to keep up with her, it's annoying to move so fast without making any noise. I follow her around the block and down the street until we reach a neighborhood I don't usually get to visit. The houses here are nice, like, really nice and I'm so glad I'm invisible, because I'd stick out like a rat on a fancy dinner table. It's so weird thinking that two years ago before dad died I lived in a house like that. We had a garden and a fancy car and three bathrooms and I had my own room.

God, I miss having my own room.

When Rachel stops it's just to open a garden gate and enter one of the properties. 'Cakes, what the hell are you up to? I hop over the low fence and watch her take a key from her purse and open the front door. I watch her being welcomed by two perfectly healthy men as she closes the door behind her, shutting me out.

I  _knew_  you were a liar, 'Cakes. I could hear it in your voice the moment you told me that they killed your dads. But I had no idea it'd be this bad.

I decide to stick around for a bit and peek through the windows. Rachel goes upstairs to her room and I climb up the drainpipe to follow her. She sits down at her desk and starts to study. For about two hours nothing happens and it's so boring and so awkward at the same time. This is definitely Rachel. This is 'Cakes.

And then she flips open her laptop, gets up from her chair, picks up a microphone she had standing in one corner of her bedroom and starts to sing "Funny Girl". I sit there, stunned. This is insane. This is fucking insane! 'Cakes is singing. I'm dead and she's fucking singing fucking Funny Girl.

When she's finished she sits back down and clicks around on her laptop.

"What the fuck?"

Her head jerks up and I realize that I've actually said this out loud. She furrows her eyebrows and approaches the window, looking around, searching the darkness. But the only one around is me and I'm invisible, so of course she doesn't find anything.

Instead I get a good look at her face and into her eyes. They're the same color brown, but these are not the eyes of the Rachel that I know. They're not the same brown eyes that love to challenge me; they're not the same eyes that look up to Quinn with so much adoration; they're not the same eyes that begged me not to hate her. These eyes are just brown eyes; they're almost… empty. 'Cakes seems sad most of the time, just like the rest of us, but she's never hollow. When you look at her there's always this spark that tells you she's a fighter.

These eyes I'm looking into right now? They haven't seen what 'Cakes has seen.

I study her closely. Who are you? An alien? Have you managed to find a way into reality?

But then she raises her arms to close the curtains and I see bandages on her wrists.

'Cakes, we really need to talk.


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who said I ever had a name in the first place?

"I need to talk to you."

Three sets of surprised eyes stare at me as I slam open the door and bark out my order without any further explanation.

"Rachel." I hold the door open and nod my head towards it, but she stays put, fear in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Quinn asks, but I really don't want to deal with her.

"I just need to talk to Rachel."

As Rachel takes a step forward, Quinn reaches out and pushes her back. "You're angry and I want to know why," she says.

"None of your business."

Rachel takes another step forward and again Quinn pushes her back.

"Oh, it  _is_  my business," she growls. "You told me that yourself. If you need to say something, say it. I'm not leaving you two alone with that foul mood you're in."

I'm about to counter that when Brittany says: "We're in this together. We should trust each other, Santana. I don't think you need to keep secrets about what you've got to say."

She looks at me, but this time I refuse to look back.

"Secrets?" I yell. "Secrets? I'll tell you who's got a secret!"

"Would you please calm down?" Brittany says, her eyes pleading. "You're scaring me." And as much as I want to listen, I can't. I'm sick of being lied to. I'm sick of being betrayed.

"I just ran into you at school," I snap at Rachel, who's still trapped behind Quinn's arm.

"Oh," she says in a tiny voice.

"Oh? That's all you've got to say to me?" I can't believe her.

She's staring at her feet when she says: "I meant to tell you, but I didn't know how."

"What the fuck, Rachel? I let you live with me!"

"I know," she interrupts me. "And I'm so grateful for that."

Quinn takes Rachel's hand and squeezes it tight and I start to wonder why she's not even curious what I'm talking about. "Tell her," she says and my jaw drops.

"You knew?"

But Quinn just looks at Rachel and Rachel starts: "It's true. I lied to you. And I'm sorry I did that. I just… My dads aren't dead and I guess I'm not either, but at the same time I kind of am." She gulps. The next couple of words seem to lie heavy on her tongue and she pauses a few seconds before she continues: "I cut my wrists. I passed out. I woke up in my own home, no stitches, no scars, no one else there. The phone rang and I picked it up. It was a doctor informing me that "my sister" Rachel had survived her suicide attempt and was going to be released from the hospital soon. I panicked and I ran. I slept under a bridge until those guys you saved me from picked me up. I wasn't shot. They were, but at that point I was already dead."

Gantz made a mistake.

"So you weren't called right after your death, because technically you didn't die. But when the Jackets were summoned, you were back on the radar and got transported to the apartment with the others." I'm just thinking out loud, but Rachel mistakes it for a response.

"Yes," she says.

"We suspect that this other Rachel you met is in fact the real Rachel," Quinn explains. "She must've been dead long enough for Gantz to copy her conscience into the database, but not long enough to finish the transmission. So when the other Rachel's heart started beating again, Gantz aborted the process and she didn't disappear like everyone else. Instead we now have two Rachels." She shrugs and adds: "Well, at least that's our best guess right now."

Rachel gulps and her voice is shaking a little when she says: "I meant to tell you, but…"

"But what?" I snap.

"But you don't make it easy to tell you things," Quinn interrupts. "We've been fighting together for months and even though I know that you consider me a friend, you've never once told me anything about you. And you've never asked me anything about myself. Everything you know about me I've offered myself. You didn't even know that I created that website. I did that for us, Santana. For us! Not just for me. So we could leave together. But you're so far up your own ass that you don't even notice when other people care about you."

That's not true. I was just respecting her boundaries. I was just protecting both of us from getting hurt! I clench my jaw and my fists.

"You have these weird ideas about privacy and respect. Not showing any interest in other people is not respect. And not letting anyone know anything about you has nothing to do with protecting your friends."

That's enough. I care about them and this is what I get? I'm being lied to? I'm being told that I'm not a good friend?

"Fine." There are tears pressuring against my eyes and I swallow hard. Brittany makes a step towards me, but I shake my head. "I've been more than generous. I let you live here. I've shared my stuff. And now I'm the asshole?"

"No one said that!" But it's really hard to hear Rachel through the mess in my head. Right now everything sounds like an accusation.

"Did you know, too?" I'm looking at Brittany, because right now she's my last hope. She'd never let me down, right?

She slowly nods and says: "I asked Rachel about what happened to her the first day I got here. I assumed you knew."

I feel my head spin and actually have to hold on to the desk for a second. I should have known better. I should have listened to Nishi's lesson. I never should have revived Quinn. I never should have let Rachel in.

"Out."

I'm not sure whom I'm talking to. I'm not even sure whether I've said it out loud until Quinn speaks up: "You can't be serious."

They all look at me with shocked wide eyes and suddenly my suit feels way too tight and the air's so hot it's hard to breathe. The room seems to shrink and I feel trapped.

"Santana, are you ok?"

But I'm not ok. Not at all.

Without another word I storm out. I just need to breathe. I just need fresh air. I just need to calm the fuck down.

"Santana!"

But I don't want to hear it.

The moment the door closes behind me I start to run. I don't know where I'm going, but right now it doesn't matter. I run and my suit activates itself and I accelerate. I run through streets and jump over walls and through bushes. I run and the wind bites at my face, making me tear up. Cool water cleans my eyes and runs down my cheeks as I keep running. I run and leave all my thoughts behind, shaking them off one step at a time.

When I finally stop the sun's already setting. I must have been running around in circles, because the street I'm on is actually not very far from school. I'm out of breath, but at least my mind's quieted down.

I replay in my head what the others told me and the knot in my stomach just won't disappear. I'm not mad at Rachel. I knew she lied and I still let her in. I'm not mad at Quinn and Brittany for not telling me about her lie. But I am mad. I'm really fucking mad.

_You're so far up your own ass._

It's not true!

_Not showing any interest in other people is not respect._

How was I supposed to know you wanted me to ask about you?

I see the fear in Rachel's eyes, the anger in Quinn's face and the guilt in Brittany's and it's just too much.

Once upon time I had no one I cared about. Things were simple. I knew who I was and I knew what I wanted. I could define myself through the points I earned and I always knew exactly what I was worth. I never had to worry about anyone or anything. I was happy.

Except even that's a lie.

I don't even want to erase everything that's happened. I don't want to go back to the time before I met Rachel. I don't want to have to miss Quinn and I don't want to live without Brittany. But I also can't just go back home now and apologize. I'm still mad. I'm so fucking mad. I can't just go back. Can I?

A coughing noise from the bushes interrupts my thoughts. Oh shit. I hope whoever's hiding there didn't see me run here.

I hear a second cough and Finn fucking Hudson comes tumbling out of the bushes.

Great. Just who I needed to see.

He wipes his nose on his sleeve and sits down on the sidewalk. It's not hard to tell that all he's been doing since he left Gantz' apartment is lurk around in the bushes and hide from people. I roll my eyes, because even though I knew he was stupid, I didn't think he was stupid enough to stay in Lima.

"God, can you please be more pathetic?"

His head jerks up and when he sees me his face darkens. "What do you want?"

Good question.

"Maybe I'm just bathing in the sweet irony of the situation." I respond with a smirk. "Here sits Finn Hudson. He used to be someone. He used to push others around. And now no one even seems to remember he existed. Tell me Finn, what's it like not to have a name anymore?"

_What is a name, really? What if no one cares about who you used to be? Does it still matter that you've lived?_

As I take a few steps in his direction I can't help but feel a little satisfaction at how miserable he appears. Isn't this the same guy who commanded his minions to throw Brittany into a dumpster? It doesn't seem like there's a lot of that person left now.

"Yea, make fun of me all you want. You don't know what it's like. And who said I ever had a name in the first place?"

What's that supposed to mean?

He continues:

"You know, everyone expects me to be someone all the time. I go to school and I'm supposed to be the quarterback, the golden-boy, the leader. I'm the one everyone relies on. I'm the one who's always supposed to have an answer for everything. And then there are tests and when I come home there's homework to do and grass to cut and my mom needs me, too. You don't know what it's like to grow up without a father."

Please. What do you know about me?

"You don't know what it's like when you always have to be someone important, someone other people can look up to. You don't know what it's like when you have to be awesome all the time, even though you feel like you're nothing inside. Where can I go and be safe? Who could I turn to? Where can I go and not have anybody on my back? My life was never mine. I never really had a choice."

"So you opted out."

He nods and clenches his jaw and swallows hard.

"I know I was mean to Brittany, but I just did what was expected of me. You know what school's like. You know what the other kids are like. I would've lost face. So it seemed like I'd found the answer when I discovered Gantz. I thought that… that… I would have a purpose. And I thought that if it didn't work out then I wouldn't really have lost anything. But now I'm alone, because the others didn't come. I'm alone."

And then he actually cries. He cries and doesn't stop. Finn and I, we're not so different after all. Finn and Quinn are not so different. Finn is one of us.

But even so, he's not my friend. Death hasn't taught him anything and I know that if he got the chance to go back, he'd continue his old ways. He's just told me exactly that by making up excuses for his behavior. And what he said about Brittany was not an apology.

Far from it.

"Go home," I finally say.

"I can't," he replies.

"Just go home," I repeat. "You have to make a choice."

Something seems to click inside of him and he swallows his tears and nods tersely. "Thanks," he says and I'm not sure if I know what he's thanking me for. I'm not even sure what I just told him to do.

I watch him leave and for a split second I wonder if I'll see him again.


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch the sky!

It's just a door handle. It's  _my_  door handle to my own fucking apartment.

Except right now it seems like so much more. I'm afraid to touch it, because of all the possible consequences. I feel like if I reached out to press it down it would burn my hand and the flames would grow and swallow me entirely.

My feet are as heavy as stone and I can feel my heart beating up into my throat.

It's just a fucking door. It's  _my_  fucking door.

Just open it.

But each time I try to lift my hand, Quinn's words repeat themselves in my head:

_You're so far up your own ass._

And it makes me so angry that I'm unable to move. She's the first person I've ever really cared about since dad died. She was my first friend. Or so I thought.

Because apparently everything I thought made us friends was a lie and the whole time she wanted me to be someone else entirely.

Does Rachel think the same about me?

What about Brittany?

That last thought makes my stomach churn. How can I trust anyone again when I can't even trust my own instincts? I've always relied on my ability to read people, and now it turns out that I don't know anything about anyone; not about Quinn; not about Rachel; not about Brittany; not about Gantz; not even about myself.

I'm right back where I started two years ago.

I'm just that pathetic little fuck again, with a messed up head and no one to turn to. I don't know anything about anything and I'm stuck. I can't go back and I can't move on and although a part of me knows that it's just the familiarity of the situation that makes me think all that, I'm unable to stop. I should know better than falling back into this dark place full of anger and pain, but the feeling is just too strong.

_Not showing any interest in other people is not respect.._

It's overwhelming. It hurts too much to just let go.

It makes me rage.

And it scares the shit out of me.

It makes my head swim.

It makes my ears ring and the sound is so loud that I almost don't notice that I'm being transported.

* * *

When I arrive in Gantz' apartment the others are already there. This has to be the worst possible moment for a mission ever.

With us are an Asian couple and a white boy with extremely thick eyebrows. They all seem to be about my age and they all seem to be scared as hell.

Finn isn't here and for some reason I'm not surprised.

"Where have you been all day?" Quinn asks. "We've been worried."

Oh yea?

Rachel approaches me. "I'm so sorry," she starts, but I really don't want to hear it, so I wave her off.

"Now's not the time. We need to focus." I know she's sorry. And I don't even understand why I can't tell her that.

She looks up to me with sad and worried eyes, but instead of saying anything she just nods and steps back. She respects me. She respects me enough to overcome her urge to talk to me. Quinn respects me enough to never ask anything about me, even though she wants to.

Brittany respects me enough to keep her distance, even though she's made it terribly clear that she wants to be close to me.

And suddenly it hits me that this kind of respect is not what I want from my friends. It's supposed to make me feel important, but instead it doesn't make me feel anything but regret.

Feeling superior has always helped me survive. But right now it just makes me lonely.

They've all gone out of their way just to please me. All three of them managed to overcome themselves for me.

Maybe it's time I return the favor.

So I step forward and address the group:

"Welcome to Gantz."

A look around confirms that I have everybody's attention, so I continue:

"I'm Santana. Cause of death: I hung myself two years ago."

Quinn's lips form a small smile, but it quickly vanishes before she speaks up:

"Quinn. Cause of death: Suicide. I OD'd."

"Rachel. Cause of death: I slit my wrists."

"Brittany. Cause of death: Car crash."

It feels like a fresh start.

"We'll soon be sent into battle," I explain. "Don't ask why. I don't know. Just put on the suits you'll find in that orb when it opens and grab a weapon. I can't promise that everyone will survive, but we've got a chance. We can fight together and we can try to come back as…"

I swallow heavily. The next couple of words won't come easy. I nod at Brittany.

"As a team."

I look at Rachel.

"As friends."

And Quinn.

"As a family."

Quinn wipes at her eyes and nods back at me. She got the message.

"We can't defeat Gantz, but we can try to escape together. We can beat this game and get out. We can survive. But in order to do that, I need you to listen to me. Out there, fighting, we can't afford to play the lone wolf. We need to stick together. We need to have each other's backs. So… who are you?"

The Asian guy hesitantly speaks up first:

"My name's Mike. This is my girlfriend, Tina." Tina adds: "We died in a plane crash."

Eyebrows concludes the introductions: "I'm Blaine. I was beaten to death."

All eyes turn to Gantz as the familiar song starts:

_A new morning has come. A morning full of hope._

"Please…kill this guy?" Blaine reads out loud. "That looks like a regular harpy-eagle. Are we supposed to kill a bird? Is that why we're here?"

"Afraid so," Brittany says. "Sorry. This is all information we're going to get for this mission. It may just look like a regular eagle, but you can't underestimate the fiend."

The ball snaps open and everyone does as I instructed them earlier. When Tina has a little trouble with her suit Brittany helps her. "It's pretty tight," she says gently. "But it'll protect you."

Mike and Blaine stare at the arsenal with wide eyes. "What are these?" Blaine asks and Quinn answers: "Pick a weapon and Santana and I will teach you how to use it. You're beginners so you should probably choose something light. Here." She hands Blaine an X-gun, explains what the triggers do and tells him about the 5-second delay.

When Mike reaches for the katana I hold him back. "Nope. Besides the fact that it's pretty stereotypical of you to choose the katana out of all weapons it's also not a very smart choice. You're new. You should pick something you can use from a distance… like the sniper rifle."

He nods and obliges. It's a kind of trust I haven't experienced before. These people are listening to me and it's not because they're afraid of me.

"Thanks," Mike says when I show him how to use his gun.

Brittany takes the katana and a couple of grenades in a small bag. "It's better if we have a variety of weapons with us. We never know what our fiend will be capable of and what other threats we'll have to face. And by the way,"

She flips a switch on the hilt of her weapon and the blade extends itself until it stretches across the entire room.

"This one here helped me to gather a hundred points once. I'm sure it can do that again."

"My hands are tingling," Tina says and the transports begin.

* * *

I materialize on the roof of a high-rise. Tina, Mike, Quinn and Blaine are already there; Brittany and Rachel follow right after. Except for a single door leading inside the building, there's only asphalt covered rooftop here. The building we're standing on is one in a large group so I figure we're in some big city. Unfortunately I don't recognize the skyline from where I'm standing. We could be anywhere.

As I take in our surroundings I'm more than a little worried. There are no obstacles to block our fiend's view and nothing to take shelter behind. And seeing as our enemy has wings and it's a cloudy day, this arena is the worst-case scenario. I try to come up with a strategy, but all I can do for now is shout:

"Watch the sky! And no heroic moves! We gotta stay together."

Mike's actually already in position: He's crouching against the roof's exit, effectively protecting his back and he's got his eyes aimed heavenwards.

A little squeak makes me turn my head.

It's a dark blue little fledgling that has just landed not far from us. I lift my finger to my mouth as a sign for everyone to keep quiet and take a step back. The bird hopping across the roof is definitely not the enemy we're supposed to kill. It's way too small, way too harmless.

Quinn and Rachel switch to invisibility and I motion towards the others to do the same, pointing at the device on my neck. The fledgling squeaks again and shakes its body, fluffing up its feathers. It looks just like a regular bird.

Blaine apparently agrees: "It's just a bird. What's everyone waiting for?" And he attempts to approach the fledgling, but I grab his arm just in time. "Stay back," I hiss through clenched teeth. He looks at me and furrows his eyebrows. "I got this," he says and I can't believe how stupid he is.

Just as he tries to escape my grip a second fledgling lands on the roof.

And a third.

And a fourth.

I take another few steps back until I'm standing right beside Mike, pressed against the wall. He stares at me and there's fear in his eyes. I nod at him reassuringly and click the device on his neck for him before my own.

There're now about a dozen birds on the roof, all squeaking and aimlessly hopping around and their number continues growing. Even Blaine seems slightly unnerved and walks backwards away from the flock, but for some reason refuses to switch to camouflage. This kid is going to get all of us killed if he keeps this up. And I can't even do anything about it, because every noise might draw attention to us and harpies have extraordinary hearing. So I hold still and hope Eyebrows comes to his senses before it's too late.

I let my gaze wander across the sky and search for any hint of our fiend, but thick clouds are blocking my view and I can't make out anything suspicious.

"Oh, screw this."

Before I can react Blaine has fired his gun at one of the fledglings and I barely manage to keep from yelling at him. Thankfully, no one else makes a sound, either.

Five seconds later Blaine is covered in blood and feathers are flying into all directions. The whole flock of birds starts to scream in confusion and suddenly Mr. Hero is swarmed by feathery chaos. All I'm able to see of him now is a pair of flailing arms and I have no clue how to help him.

If I attack, I risk exposing myself and the rest of the group, and we still haven't even seen the true enemy. And I can't possibly communicate a strategy with the others as long as everyone's invisible.

And why the hell doesn't Blaine switch to camouflage already?

Suddenly there's an earth shattering scream that echoes from between the buildings around us. It's a scream that makes my blood freeze, a scream that makes the ground shake and the hairs on my neck stand on end. It's the scream of an angry mother.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a giant arises from behind the edge of our roof top. In the blink of an eye it dives down, wings cutting through the air and creating a gust that makes me stumble backwards and fall. Its massive talons reach out and grab Blaine. He screams and loses his grip on his weapon as the creature carries him off.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Rachel becoming visible again. She stands there for a few seconds, hands clenched in fists, eyes closed and whispering something to herself that I'm unable to hear. I suddenly realize what she's about to do.

"Oh, hell no!" I grab her arm just as she's about to sprint and click my own device as well. "That didn't work last time and it won't work now. You're not risking your life for someone who was just asking for trouble."

She looks at me, more surprised than anything else. "B…but..." she stutters. "We can't just let him die. We need to do something!"

Oh, fuck strategy.

I draw my weapon and try to take aim, but the harpy-eagle is too fast and my display is too small and the sound of dozens of screaming fledglings is distracting me.

I fire once.

And miss.

Twice.

I miss again.

I get down on one knee, take a deep breath to calm down and get a better aim when I hear a shot being fired right next to me.

It's Mike.

For a moment the fiend seems to tumble, but it just performs a loop and keeps drawing large circles above our heads with a screaming Blaine trapped in its claws.

Again I try to take aim and again I fail. Mike shoots again as well, but the beast is too damn fast and Mike's not exactly an experienced gunner.

Something falls onto to the roof next to us and I turn just in time to see the flock of fledglings swarm over it. It's only when I see one of them hop aside with a finger in its beak that I realize that 'something' was Blaine's arm.

I can still hear him screaming. He's alive, but we're running out of time. My chest tightens a little as I realize my only option is to save him myself. So I sprint to the edge of the roof and I take off. It's my only chance to reach Blaine in time.

And I jump higher than I've ever jumped before; higher than I thought I could. As I fly closer to the fiend, I reach out my hand to grab hold.

But it's not enough, and my eyes grow wide as I reach the peak of my jump, and my fingers only grasp emptiness. Blaine's bleeding heavily. "Help me!" he screams as I start to fall back.

Out of pure reflex I draw my gun, take aim and shoot. Five seconds pass and when I land on the building adjacent to the one we'd been transported to, rolling over my shoulder to absorb the impact, it's the harpy that screams instead of Blaine.

I cover my ears with my hands, because it's such a high pitched noise that I'm afraid my eardrums might burst. When I look up our enemy's really tumbling this time and there's a wound gaping on her shoulder. When I start to run to jump once more the beast screams again, performs another loop and rips Blaine in half.

A lifeless torso and legs are tossed to the rooftop and again the flock of fledglings rushes to its meal.

It's gross and sad, but in the end Blaine had it coming. I warned everyone explicitly not to pull any heroic moves and he just refused to listen. In fact, he made me go solo, too.

I jump back to the roof to rejoin the group. Tina is staring wide-eyed at what's left of Blaine, and Mike pulls her into him as Brittany lays a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Quinn catches my eye and shakes her head slightly while Rachel just stares at the ground.

We all know what Mike and Tina are going through, but we also know we don't have time for it. Now we know our fiend. It's time to attack as a group.

"We've got to lure it down," I say. Mike and Tina nod hesitantly. "So let's get us some attention." I fire a single shot at one of the fledglings. One by one everyone becomes visible again and they follow my lead.

Only a moment later the harpy shoots down and I see Brittany barely dodge the attack. She ducks and turns, extending her blade to its full size as she pivots, swinging it through the air. She misses by less than an inch.

Mike attempts a head shot, which only gets him unwanted attention. Our fiend leaps towards him, its beak wide open and only Quinn briefly distracting the harpy by shooting another birdie saves Mike's life.

It's a mess; it's pure chaos. We have nowhere to hide and at least two of us probably won't be able to land a single hit.

"We have to weaken it somehow," Brittany yells as she blocks another hit with her katana.

"The wings!" I yell back. "If it can't fly we might have a chance."

Tina is the first to shoot. Her aim is better than I expected, but the harpy keeps jumping around, taking off into the sky just to shoot back down at us. Even I find it extremely hard to catch it on my display at all and every time I do it's gone too quickly for me to lock it. I growl in frustration. If only there was a way to...

"Quinn!" Suddenly an idea pops up in my head and it might not be the smartest of moves, but right now it seems the only chance we've got. "I'm going to lead it that way!" I shout over to her while pointing at a row of adjacent buildings. She catches on quickly. It's one of her abilities I appreciate the most.

I lift three fingers in the air and count down. I can only hope this works out the way I planned it. Nodding at Quinn and Brittany I sprint forward, grab one of the fledglings and leap over to the next building. The bird in my arms is screaming and fighting and it's actually a lot stronger than I thought. I need both my arms to keep it still. The screaming, though, is exactly what I was hoping for.

Just as I land, I hear our enemy shriek again and I know my plan's working. I can't afford to wait for the attack so I run across the rooftop and when I jump again I hear stones burst right behind me and several shots being fired. But I don't dare to look back.

With the bird in my arms shrieking and flailing wildly I'm a lot slower than usual. I hit the ground and when my feet slide across the loose gravel, for a moment I think I'm losing my balance. That moment is enough for the little beast to fight one leg loose and scratch my arm. I stumble and fall, but don't let go.

The wound stings, but it's not too bad so as quickly as I can I get back on my feet and start to run just as I hear flapping right behind me. The wind it creates catches me off-guard, though, and forces me to my knees again.

Fuck.

Just as I think I'm done for I hear the monster scream again and blood splatters the ground next to me. It buys me enough time to scramble to my feet and jump back to the group. As I hit the rooftop with a dull thud, the wound on my arm starts to itch and bleed, which is weird.

"You're hurt!" Brittany shouts, but I wave her off. "It's nothing." I break the fledgling's neck and kick it off the roof. When I realize I'm not being followed I turn around to see the harpy tumble across the building I just left. There's a gaping hole in one of its wings and it's obviously hesitant to follow me.

"Good job, guys," I start. "If we all jump over we could…could…" Suddenly it's hard to focus. Also my tongue feels really heavy. "Santana?" I hear Rachel call. My vision turns blurry and suddenly I'm staring at the sky. I think I'm lying on the ground.

"Oh, shit, no!"

I hear the harpy's scream way too close and feel myself being dragged away from the noise. "Poison! It's poison! It's infected." I feel a slap on my face and when I open my eyes, Brittany's looking down at me.

"Hey, Britt," I slur. It's kinda hard to control my voice and to be honest, that damn wound hurts like fuck now.

"You're bleeding, but you're gonna be ok," she says and her voice sounds so soothing that it feels like she's singing me to sleep.

Another slap hits my face and I open my eyes again. Why's she hitting me?

"You can't fall asleep!"

But my eyes are so heavy and my arm hurts. "It's ok. I'm just going to rest my eyes." Just for a bit.

The yelling in the background is getting louder. Everything's too loud and why the fuck is my arm hurting so bad? "It hurts," I hear myself whimper. It's getting worse every second and the pain has spread to my shoulder and neck. It's getting harder to breathe. "I just want to rest a bit."

I'm being violently shaken awake and again it's Brittany looking directly at me. Her eyes are so beautiful I almost forget to breathe.

"She stopped breathing! No no no no no no!"

But I'm ok. I just need a little rest.

I open my eyes one more time. Brittany's smiling at me now. She places her hand on my cheek and her eyes seem glassy. But maybe that's just because everything's a little blurry right now. It's hard to focus with the pain creeping from my arm through my whole body. It's overwhelming. It's so overwhelming that I can't even talk anymore; I can't move; I can't even cry; I can't do anything but lie there and hope I'll wake up soon. This is the weirdest nightmare ever.

"Look," Brittany wipes at her face. "I need to go help the others now. You're going to be ok, understand?" Of course I'll be ok. What's she talking about? "I'll be back. Just promise me you won't fall asleep… Santana?"

I'm right here.

"Promise me that you won't fall asleep."

But I'm unable to move so I just look at her and hope she gets the answer she's been searching for.

"I'll be back."

Before she gets up she cups my cheek and I don't understand what's happening until her lips are pressed against mine.

Or maybe that's just part of the dream, too. But in that case it's definitely not a nightmare.

I want to close my eyes, but I think I promised that I wouldn't do that. So I lie there and I watch the sky. The clouds are dark grey now.

Maybe it's going to rain soon.

That would be nice.

I wish I could cough.

The yelling subsides and then everything's black.

* * *

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is that damn black orb in front of me and I realize:

I'm alive.

And then I remember that I almost died.

The next thing I know I'm being squeezed between three bodies in a group hug. Quinn kisses my hair, Brittany kisses my check and Rachel basically tries not to be suffocated as she's trapped between me and Quinn.

"Don't do that again," Quinn sobs.

"Payback," I respond with a grin and she punches my shoulder. "Not funny," she whines, but I can see she's smiling.

In the background I see Mike and Tina hugging each other. They made it.

Tina looks over to me and mouths, "Thank you." The world they'll have to face from now on is cruel, but at least they've got each other. And when you've got a team you can trust, anything is possible.

Quinn turns to Rachel and pulls her into a kiss. "You were amazing," she says and Rachel beams and blushes.

There're tears pressuring against my eyes and before I know it my cheeks are wet. Brittany hugs me again. "You scared me." But before I can say I'm sorry she adds: "But you were also pretty badass."

I chuckle and I lift my hands to wipe at my eyes, and when my vision clears it's like I'm seeing for the first time ever.


	21. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're my best friend.

"You should've seen Rachel! She was so fierce."

At home Quinn tells me what I missed while I was, you know, dying and she jumps and twirls around and re-enacts every single move. I don't think I've ever seen her this enthusiastic before. I'm laughing practically the entire time during her little performance for me and it seems to encourage her and she's grinning like a fool herself.

"And then Brittany jumped and turned around and cut off its leg. It was spectacular."

After that the enemy's fate was sealed. Apparently it was Mike who got to finish it off, though and he received ten points. Everyone else got a few points for the fledglings they killed.

When she's finished, Quinn plops down opposite of me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are wide and she's got a big smile on her face. It's adorable and I hope I'll get to see her like this more often from now on.

"Seems like I missed a really good fight," I state. She nods, but the smile on her face fades and is replaced by her usual half-worried half-cool expression.

"It was so bad," she says, quietly. "After Rachel had dragged you to the side and ripped your suit open we could literally see the infection spread. I was so scared; we all were. And then you just stopped breathing. We had beaten the fiend and when we came to check on you, you were gone… or so we thought." She pulls her knees up to her chin and clutches them tight. "When the transport began I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was sure I'd come back," I tell her. "I don't know why, but I somehow didn't feel like I was dying. But wait, did you say Rachel dragged me to the side?"

Quinn nods. "Yea, she stayed with you for quite a while. She said she had to wake you several times. But eventually she figured her only chance to really help you was to help us end the battle."

"That's weird. I was convinced that all this time Brittany was talking to me."

Quinn looks confused for a second, but then winks at me. "Well, that must have been wishful thinking."

This time I punch her. "Ow!" She squeals with an expression stuck between a frown and a grin.

"But why the hell would Rachel kiss me?" I didn't mean to say it out loud, but it earns me a wholehearted laugh from Quinn.

"Nope. That was definitely Brittany," she manages to say between giggles. "She kissed you right before we were transported back."

So apparently my mind must have been mixing up the order of events a little.

"I didn't think you'd remember that. Well, now at least you know what it's like to be kiss-attacked. Although I suspect this is a little different, huh?"

I blush and stare at a spot on the ground. Yea, it kind of is different.

After a moment of awkwardness, I look back up at Quinn. "I didn't know you were such a good story teller," I grin at her.

"Well," she responds "There are a lot of things you don't know about me." It comes out a lot more serious than either of us expected.

She attempts to get up, but I hold her back. "Then tell me," I say. "I want to know everything about you."

Her eyes become glassy for a second and the smile she gives me is different from every other smile I've seen on her. It's warm, it's the start of something new. And then she tells me everything. She tells me how she was one of the popular girls at school, a cheerleader with a straight A record. She tells me how hard she worked every day to keep up that image, how she never had a moment to stop and think and how she was never allowed to live her life on her own terms. She wasn't allowed any future plans, because everything had been planned for her already. She'd marry after high school and become the perfect wife, just like her mom; her mom, who had become a life-less ragdoll a long time ago.

It was really her dad who expected her to be nothing less than the best. She was raised to be a doll, a Christian porcelain doll without a soul. She was supposed to be perfect in everything she did and every little failure would be punished right away. Her dad would hit her. Never in the face, of course; that would have been too obvious. He'd lock her in her room and yell through the door what a disgrace she really was. "If you can't do it right, don't do it at all," he'd say.

At some point his voice turned into her own and it would haunt her every night, telling her she'd never succeed at anything. That was the beginning of the end.

"It's still there sometimes," she says, with a little sadness in her voice. "But the pressure's gone. Right now all I have to do is survive and I'll see about the rest. I guess it also helps not being beaten up every other day for literally nothing. I'm more angry than sad these days and I've learned to be angry at my dad instead of myself. And I'm angry at my mom, too, because she always supported my dad like the co-dependent fuck she is."

I gulp and launch forward into her arms.

"Whoa, easy," she laughs. She almost falls back and after a moment of apparent shock she wraps herself around me just the same.

"You're my best friend," I tell her, because I mean it. She sighs and suddenly feels a lot softer in my arms, as if she'd been wearing a shell this whole time and it's finally fallen off and now I get to feel the real Quinn instead.

She clears her throat and says: "I love you, too."

* * *

I'm brushing my teeth when there's a soft knock on the door. "Just a second," I call out, but the door opens and in comes Brittany. She's already wearing her night shorts and a t-shirt with a little cartoon duck printed on the front and she let her hair down so it falls around her face like a golden frame. I can't wait to crawl into bed and feel her arms around me. Tonight - more than ever - I really need her next to me. I need her safety and her warmth.

She closes the door slowly and gives me a shy smile as I quickly rinse and spit before turning to her.

"I thought I asked you to wait."

But I'm not mad; not at all. She's fumbling with the hem of her shirt and it's beyond adorable so all I can do is stand there and stare.

"I know I said I'd wait," she starts, and I'm pretty sure she's not talking about waiting outside the bathroom. "But you almost…just how long do think you'll need? Because I've never been a very patient person; I've always just taken what I wanted from life and I didn't do that with you, because I thought it might scare you off, so I've been waiting. And now…I don't know how long I can wait anymore and I know you said we'd make it together, but there's no guarantee and maybe I won't get another chance to..."

She bites her lower lip and she's tearing up. It's the worst thing I've ever seen in my entire life…and death.

"I don't know what you're so scared of." She pauses, and her eyes wander around, searching the room until they find my face again and root me in place. Except that it now feels like I'm binding her to me instead; like I'm actually her anchor for once. "But I'm not scared. And I think that what we could have….that's not scary. What's out there – what's waiting for us in the missions? That's scary, and it's even scarier to face that without you."

I still haven't said a word, and after a moment, she starts to panic a little. "Or am I just making things up? Maybe you really just want to be friends? I'd be fine with that, but…"

Wait, what?

I take a step forward so that I'm now standing directly in front of her. I'm so close that I can hear her heart racing and we both have goose bumps on our arms. I'm not going to be that distant idiot any longer; I'm not going to waste any more time; I'm not going to wait until she's given up on me.

I lift my arms to rest them on her shoulders. I look into her eyes and pull her down to me.

The moment our lips touch, I'm lost. If I ever thought her eyes worked some kind of magic on me it's nothing compared to her hands on my waist and her lips against mine; it's nothing compared to feeling strands of her hair slide through my fingers; it's nothing compared to her tongue dipping against my lower lip. When I crack my lips to let her in, she sighs and her hands start to wander. I feel her fingertips dance along my rib cage, grazing along my sides until they find the hem of my shirt. She tugs at it and I stiffen.

I didn't mean to. It's just a reflex.

"I've never..." I whisper.

She nods and kisses me again until I relax back into her touch. Then, slowly, she starts lifting my shirt. She peels it off my body like I was wrapped in band-aid and I swear it feels just like I had suffered burns and she was examining the wounds. She's so careful, so gentle that being naked - exposed to her - is actually only a little bit frightening.

Taking a step back she looks at me. She must see the anxiety in my eyes, because she doesn't stare. Instead she just pulls her own shirt over her head and wraps her arms around me again and – god – I almost faint, because her breasts are flush against mine and my skin burns and I have no idea what to do.

"Hey."

When I open my eyes she's smiling at me.

"Are you ok?"

I nod. "Yea, I just… "

"Nervous?"

I nod again. This is really embarrassing. I can fight and I can kill. I can tear people down. But this? Completely new terrain.

"Maybe this will be a little better," she says and pulls down her shorts and tosses them to the side. "Now I'm naked and you're still wearing shorts and socks. You have an advantage."

I'm actually not so sure about that, especially when she kisses me again and takes my hands and places them on her ass. But she grins playfully and it's so sweet that I can't help but grin along.

One of her hands snakes around my back and pulls me even closer. My arms are back around her neck. I'm not sure if I'll be able to move at all, but I can offer myself to her. I can let her do whatever it is she wants to do. I can let myself melt into her touch.

She presses me against the wall and cups me through my shorts. "Is this ok?" she whispers and I feel like such a loser, because I can only gulp and nod. It's actually way more than just ok and she shouldn't feel the need to ask. But she obviously doesn't mind; she kisses my cheek and my neck and pushes her hand into my shorts and suddenly everything else is gone.

She's everywhere.

All fear has left me and all I want is feel her, too, so I reach down and copy her movements. We both gasp and her kisses become quicker and a little sloppy as they wander from my lips along my jaw and down my neck. I start to burn from the inside – flames rushing through my veins, licking my skin, cracking me open and unleashing a wildfire that traps Brittany and me alike. She must feel it, too, because she's breathing just as hard as I am and her breath is hot on my neck. And then something else takes over and the heat reaches a whole new level as it spreads and rushes through my brain and settles against her hand. She tightens her grip and shudders and I pull her closer and bury my face in her shoulder as my fingers press hard into her shoulder blades and

\- oh god –

It takes a moment before I realize we've both stopped moving. The fire that threatened to consume me just moments ago has escaped my body and left behind a limp mess. My legs feel weak, and I'm unable to do anything but to wrap myself around Brittany. Luckily she doesn't seem to have any intention of moving.

After a few seconds - or is it a few minutes? - she removes her hand from my shorts and holds me up with both her arms. She kisses my cheek and pecks my lips a couple of times until I start to laugh.

It's not even funny, and yet, it's hilarious. I was such a fool for shutting her out. I was so determined to speed through Gantz' game that I slowed everything down with Brittany.

I guess we've caught up now.

But most of all, it's a relief. It feels like this whole time there had been a rock tied to my heart and now that it's been cut off, like a balloon freed from its weight I can rise into the sky.

Or some shit like that.

Brittany smiles at me with dark eyes and rosy cheeks and hands me my shirt. "We should probably go to bed," she says in a voice barely above a whisper.

I nod and watch her step back into her shorts. There's something delicate in how she moves. She barely stretches the material of her clothes before slipping in. and her head and her hands don't get caught in the cloth before finding the opening like mine do. Every one of her movements seems light and easy, as if she were dancing the entire time. In comparison to her, I feel clumsy and crude.

When she turns around I'm still standing there with my shirt in my hand. I was so enthralled by her that I forgot that I'm half naked. She grins and her eyes are twinkling when she approaches me. She takes the shirt out of my hand and pulls it over my head, but only partway so I'm actually stuck and trapped in her grip as she clutches my waist. I hear myself laugh and she giggles and finally pulls the shirt down.

"Hey there," she says and pecks my nose.

It's unbelievable how comfortable I feel around her. I've only known her for such a short time and it's like she's always been there. We've always been taking our lunch breaks together at school and we've always been giggling over nonsense and we've always been fighting together, against aliens and for a future. She's always been by my side.

"Britt…"

She tilts her head and takes my hands. "Yes?"

"This isn't a coincidence. You and me meeting here, I mean." It just doesn't feel that way. "It's weird, but I think we were meant to find each other; all four of us, I mean. I think we were meant to do something or… I don't know. Does that sound silly to you? I sound silly, right?"

She shakes her head and kisses me again, slowly, with all the tenderness that seems to live in every one of her cells. "No," she finally answers. "That doesn't sound silly at all."

There's something buried somewhere deep within me, like a song I should remember or a name I can't find the matching face to. It creates a spot in my mind, but I can't tell what it is.

"Then, what is it? What brought us here?"

She furrows her eyebrows and chews on her lip. "I don't know. We did, probably."

It's not the answer I was hoping for, but for now it's the best I can get. All I can do right now is take Brittany's hand and lie down with her on our mattress.

Tonight for the first night ever I fall asleep with my face buried in Britt's chest and her arms wrapped tightly around my back. And for the first time ever I'm actually looking forward to the moment I wake up, still trapped in her embrace.

* * *

The next day I spend most of the time sitting outside with Brittany. She tells me about her older sister, who she always looked up to. Ann used to protect Britt from the bullies until she went off to college. Apparently she was really smart and strong, too. She was one of the popular girls, pretty and desired. It's what people say about their relatives once they're dead. Suddenly all their flaws don't matter anymore and so Brittany is convinced her sister was a superhero.

She only very briefly mentions the times when Ann locked her in the closet because she didn't want to deal with her. She left her there for hours until Brittany had cried herself to sleep. "I could be really annoying sometimes," Britt explains and although I highly doubt that I don't want to ruin the image she has of her sister. She clearly loved her more than anything else in this world. Why take that away from her when she'll never see her sister again?

"After she left, my parents seemed so sad all the time," she says in a tiny voice. "Everything changed after that. They'd yell at each other more and more often and they'd talk about how I'd never make it into college. I wasn't meant to hear it, but I did."

I put my arm around her and kiss her temple softly. "Let's not go to college together," I say, which actually makes her smile. It's amazing what a cheery person she's become considering everything she's been through. "You're amazing, Britt." She takes my hand and pulls it into her lap and fumbles with my fingertips.

"Sometimes I think that death was a relief. I mean, I didn't want to die, but I didn't always want to be alive, either. And looking back it's like this new life I have is scary, but it's still better than the one I had sometimes." And looking at her I can't help but agree.

"Santana?"

I look up and her eyes are a piercing blue that seemed such a threat to me when I first saw it. Now I'm watching the process - how her cheeks turn pink and her hair seems to glow, like her mere presence could scare all of our all darkness away. Maybe that's what I was so afraid of all along.

"When we get out of here I want us to be together. All four of us."

I smile at her words, and feel something click inside of me. She saved me once, twice… she's saving me every single day and now she's planning a future for me, for us. And I think that, yea, together we might make it.

"Me, too."

She kisses my cheek and gets up. "I want to help Quinn prepare dinner tonight. You coming?" But I shake my head. I want to enjoy the fresh air a little longer.

I watch the sky go from blue to orange to purple to black and the whole time Brittany's words spin in my head: "I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to be alive, either." We're our own little suicide pact, even though technically Britt didn't kill herself. And we didn't even need a website to find each other. I've gained more than I've lost after my death, but it's time to move on. It's time to escape Gantz. It's time to take back control. Not just for Brittany, but for myself.

_It's about time._

"Hey, are you alright?" Rachel's standing in the open door. "Yea," I smile at her. "Come sit with me for a bit." I pat the space next to me and she hesitantly accepts my offer.

She looks at me with a questioning expression and I can't blame her at all. I've never invited her to spend time with me before. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you." I start. "And I'm sorry for yelling."

Her expression doesn't change. Her confusion is so palpable it makes me wonder how scared of me she really is. I put my arm around her shoulders and she tenses, but only for a second. "I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I know I haven't made it easy for you to like me, but…you're no less of a friend to me than the others."

Her mouth falls open, but she doesn't say anything. I've managed to render her speechless. It's a miracle.

"Don't look at me like that," I murmur. It's a little embarrassing and I feel my face start to burn. When I look at her again she's beaming.

"Thank you," she says. "I really appreciate that."

I suppress the urge to tell her not get a big head about it. It's not the right time to push her away. Then I suddenly remember what the other Rachel looked like, so hollow, as if she'd never seen anything good in her life. And I pull her –  _my Rachel_  – closer to me and say: "I didn't know you could sing."

"Oh my god." It's Rachel's time to blush. "Yes, actually I love to sing. I used to upload videos of myself to MySpace and it's always been my dream to one day go to New York and sing at Broadway." She lowers her voice and adds: "Well, I guess that's out of the question now." It breaks my heart to see her like this. And yet, there's something else that needs to be said.

"The Rachel I saw had a really pretty voice, but I don't think she'll ever be a star."

Rachel furrows her eyebrows. "What? Why would you say that?"

"Because," I kiss her head. "She looked a lot more dead to me than you do. That wasn't 'Cakes I saw the other day; that wasn't you."

"Oh."

She turns her head and stares at her feet. She sucks in some air and slowly releases it. "That night you let me in… I would have slept with you."

What? Where's that coming from all of a sudden?

"I would've done it, although I didn't really want to. But even though you seemed so harsh and cruel you didn't take advantage of me. Truth is," she bites her lip. "You're the very first friend I ever had."

I wrap both my arms around her and rest my chin on her head. I know exactly how she feels. I know that, because of Quinn. She silently sobs into my chest and I let her cry for a bit. She pulls me as close as possible and grips the fabric of my shirt tightly and I bury one hand in her hair and just hold her like that. I hated her when I first saw her; or so I thought. Right now I can't believe I ever felt that way.

This hug was long overdue.

"Guys! Guys!" Quinn and Brittany come crashing through the door, laptop in Quinn's hands. "We got an email! The website… we… we got an email!"

They practically leap in our direction and before I can process Quinn's words, I have the computer on my lap and three girls screaming into my ear.

I inhale sharply. It's an anonymous sender with an obviously fake address. What if this message holds a vital clue? What if the sender knows what Gantz is? What if this is our ticket out?

What if it's not?

"Oh my god! Open the fucking email!" Rachel yells and out of pure shock that she just cursed, I click on the message.

I read it over and over again, but it just won't make sense.

"Fuck," Quinn finally says.

"It might be a riddle," Brittany suggests

But really, it just sounds like some of those cards they sell to tourists at souvenir shops:

" _When our guilt holds us back we rely on the mercy of others_

_When we're brave we have all options in our hands_

_We're soldiers in the war we started"_


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't come here to surrender.

Math.

I chew on my pencil and stare out of the window.

Autumn’s not far away, but the sky is blue, and the sun’s shining directly onto my desk. It’s like my own little bit of summer during class and it makes me smile. It’s weird how a simple sunray can do that.

I keep thinking about Brittany. She’s so much more than I’d ever allowed myself to hope for. She’s pretty, and smart in her own way, and she’s got a heart of gold. But what really amazes me is that she’s so independent. She never needed her parents to tell her she’s ok the way she is. She doesn’t need friends to tell her that, either. She doesn’t even need me, really. She’s whole and perfect on her own and I have no idea where she got that kind of strength from. And I don’t know why out of all people she chose to be with me.

She’s sitting next to me right now, taking notes that I will have to correct later without a doubt. But I don’t mind at all. Actually I enjoy our little study sessions. We’ll sit down on our mattress and she’ll listen to everything I tell her with rapt attention. We usually go through everything several times and I make it my own little challenge to find creative ways to explain formulas or grammar rules. It makes us both proud when she finally gets it. The thing with Britt is that she needs her time with these things, but once something has sunken in, she won’t forget it again. And a lot of times it’s really the way teachers try to drill everything into our heads. Even I find it hard to follow their train of thought sometimes.

Once we get out of here I’ll help her graduate and open that dance studio she’s been dreaming of. I’m not sure what I’ll do after high school, but Quinn and Rachel are smart, and I know the four of us will find a way. It’ll be tough, sure, but life is tough for everyone, right? All I know is that I’m ready to move on, find a way out of Gantz and just go somewhere else with my friends, my new family. I don’t want to be a soldier anymore.

_I found you._

What was that?

I look around, but everyone else keeps staring at the blackboard or at their notebooks. “Britt,” I whisper. “Did you hear that?” But she looks at me in confusion.

“No. What are you talking about?”

I shake my head. “I guess it was nothing…”

Am I going crazy?

_I found you._

No, that was definitely real. When I look up this time, Brittany’s staring at me with wide eyes.

“I think I heard it, too,” she says. No one else seems to have noticed the voice, but the teacher sees Brittany staring at me.

“You in the back row,” he says,” Care to enlighten the rest of the class?”

Before I can answer, I hear something entirely different. It sounds like a whisper, or a whoosh, or some kind of rustling. I can’t tell what it is, but for some reason it terrifies me.

Everyone looks at me in shock as I jump up from my seat. “Does no one hear that?” I ask the room. But the expression on their faces tells me they think I’m crazy. Everyone except Brittany, who suddenly leaps from her chair as well and runs out of the classroom.

“Britt?”

I follow right after, ignoring the teacher telling me to sit back down.

The hallway is empty and I can’t see Britt anywhere. Where did she run to? Suddenly there’s that noise again right behind me, louder than before and I feel a breeze tickling my neck. But when I turn around no one’s there.

“Hello?” 

Taking the gun into my hand I slowly walk down the hallway towards the exit. The noise returns, but this time it seems to come from somewhere outside, as if something was circling the building. It sounds like a storm now and it gets louder with each step I take.

“Britt?”

Nothing.

Hesitantly, I push open the front door a crack when a gust of wind rips it out my hand, slams it open and forces me to my knees. When I get up I see Quinn and Rachel materialize across the school yard by the little fountain they installed last year in a failed attempt to make McKinley a little more presentable.

Then Britt comes running towards me and I can see the fear in her eyes long before she crashes into my arms. “It’s so bad, San,” she gasps.

“Where were you?” I ask, but when I hear that noise again, I shudder and I don’t even know what I’m so scared of.

“Quinn, what the hell are you doing here?” I shout over. This doesn’t make sense. Why were they transported here? “Are you on a mission?”

Quinn and Rachel join us by the door. “No,” Rachel says. “I don’t know. I was at work until just a second ago. Gantz didn’t call me!”

“Well, she must have, because I clearly saw you being transported here.” This doesn’t make sense at all.

Another gust of wind hits us and we duck. “What do you mean? Who’s “she”?” Quinn furrows her eyebrows as if I had said something absolutely nonsensical.

“Gantz,” I reply. “Who do you think I was talking about?”

The noise returns, closer than ever and when I look up I freeze. A black cloud rises from behind the building and grows until it seems to cover the entire sky and throws a threatening shadow upon all of Lima. Then in an instant it starts to twirl and moves to gather above our heads and forms a black orb.

“What on earth…”

And just as quickly it dissolves again and shoots down into our direction. I jump to push Britt out of the way as I feel the earth quake beneath me. “Is everybody alright?” I receive immediate answers from everyone.

That was close.

“What the hell is that?” Quinn gasps.

But Brittany just shakes her head with terror in her eyes. “Didn’t you seen it? It’s…” she gulps and shakes her head again, closing her eyes for a second. Then she slowly breathes out and her expression softens. “I think it’s our last mission.”

What?

A bench comes twirling through the air in our direction and misses me by an inch as I duck. It crashes into the wall behind me and splinters fly in every direction. Why hasn’t Gantz called me? What is this? And why does no one inside the school seem to notice what’s going on?

_“It’s time.”_

And who’s talking to me?

“Shelby?” Did I just yell that?

“Santana!”

I faintly hear Brittany calling my name as my feet lose contact with the ground and my weapon is ripped from my hand.

A part of the black cloud surrounding me forms a giant hand and its fingers reach towards me. I can’t move despite all my efforts to fight myself free. The fingers grab my head and snake around my body as if searching for something. When I realize what they’re searching for, I start to panic and flounder, but it’s to no avail. Fingers turn into sharp claws and those claws press right into the caps of my suit harder and harder until I hear something crack.

And I swear I hear Nishi laughing at me.

I’m weak.

I’m small.

The cloud around me bursts and I’m flung through the air and land on a patch of grass by the fountain. It hurts. My shoulder hurts and my hip hurts and I think I sprained my wrist.

The cloud has disappeared and I’m sitting there like a complete mess. “My suit is dead!” I cry. It’s the only thing I can think of right now. “My suit is dead! Help me!”

Now I’m just a person.

What am I supposed to do?

Quinn crashes into the fountain’s basin, water splashing everywhere. She coughs and gets up and tumbles and when she slowly crawls out of the water, face pale, I see blue liquid leak from the caps on her suit. “Fuck,” she breathes out and when she looks at me I see something I’ve never seen before. She’s afraid like me, but there’s something else, something deeper and darker. It terrifies me and I think that maybe it’s been there the whole time, covered by a curtain of dreams and illusions. Maybe my mind was protecting me and lied to me so I could fight.

“Quinn, you’re…” But I can’t find the words I’m searching for.

“You, too,” she nods.

“Death. I’ve seen death,” Rachel runs towards us and leaps into Quinn’s arms and sobs. Her suit is broken like ours. “This isn’t another enemy,” she whimpers. “This is not one of Gantz’ missions.”

Suddenly I understand.

Dad.

I understand.

Rachel’s right.

Two years ago I died. We’re all dead. I thought I was fighting for survival. I made myself believe that I was a hunter when in reality I was the prey.

And now death has finally caught up.

Tears well up in my eyes as I feel darkness creeping through my veins, like a dark force was taking over my body and slowly drowning me in hopelessness. I can feel an invisible noose gradually tighten around my neck.

I learned to be weak. I learned to let my guard down. I learned my lesson and now it’s time for me to go. It makes sense. I wanted to die. I don’t know why I expected anything different.

It’s all over.

“We’re moving on, right?” I ask. “I guess it’s about time.”

Quinn’s staring at her feet and Rachel’s crying quietly.

Maybe it’s better this way. If I can let go I’ll never have to fight again.

And the noose tightens a little more. There are shadows crawling at my feet, pulling me down, draining my will to live. I can’t even remember if anything ever meant something to me. I can’t even remember my name.

Then I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I look up I see Brittany’s eyes. “No,” she says. “What are you saying? What’s wrong with all of you? I refuse to give up. We’ve come this far because we’re together. It’s not over, yet. We can do this.”

She’s so sincere and I want to believe her but for some reason can’t. Quinn and Rachel just turn their heads as well.

“You can’t be serious,” Brittany tries again. “After all we’ve been through you’re willing to give up just like that?”

“Britt…” But my voice breaks.

“We aren’t dead, yet, remember? We can fight. I refuse to wait here for my death. I didn’t come here to surrender. Sure, it might seem hopeless, but, guys, we have to try. I believe in us.”

“She’s right,” I hear Quinn say after a moment. “It’s not over until it’s over.” She’s looking at Rachel who’s chewing on her lower lip. “We gave up our lives once. Let’s not make the same mistake again. Let’s fight until we can’t anymore.” As she and Brittany stand there firmly, confidently, I remember why they’ve made such an impression on me. I remember why I used my points to revive Quinn. And I remember why I’m so drawn to Brittany.

“We’re a team,” Rachel adds, wiping away her tears and taking Quinn’s hand. “I died once already and even if I should die again today, I’d rather die fighting together with you.” Quinn smiles softly at her girlfriend and it hits me. I can’t leave them.

I wipe my eyes and pick up my gun.

 “We’re a team,” I agree. “No matter what happens now I want you all to know that…” I swallow the lump in my throat as I feel my head clear. I shake my head, shake away what I can only call momentary insanity. “…I love you.”

_“Onions are enough for me.”_

Quinn blinks and raises an eyebrow. “What was that?”

_“Onions are enough for me.”_

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. Then I look down to see that the threat I feared just seconds ago is real. The shadows release me, creep away and take my agony right with them, freeing me of the weight I felt.

They rise in front of me and slowly turn into a figure I recognize all too well.

“Run!” I shout as I see the onion alien raise its fist to attack.

I shoot but miss and jump behind the fountain.

_“Where do you think you’re going?”_

Nishi glares at me through cold eyes and flashes his teeth as he shoots me a sinister grin before quickly dissolving back into pure darkness.

I hear Brittany scream but all I can see before ducking behind a tree is a flock of fledglings merging into a black cloud.

And then I hear the one noise I never wanted to hear again. Squealing and honking and…

My hands shoot up to my ears and I close my eyes. Anything. I can withstand anything. Just spare me this.

It’s the monster that’s been haunting me for my whole new life. It’s where everything started. It’s the one threat I can’t face; the Minotaur to my labyrinth.

_“It’s about time.”_

Quit talking to me!

Get out of my head!

And then I see it. It’s larger than life; it’s death but worse; it’s the end of everything, the nothingness that stole my mind so long ago.

I’m still leaning against the tree. My cheeks are wet and my fists are shaking. I’m slow and weak and just a person. And then I realize, I truly realize, that it’s about time, just like _she_ said.

A bright light hits and blinds me. The monster opens its gigantic jaws to swallow me whole, hair and bones. I raise my arm to cover my eyes, but it’s no use. The light is getting brighter and when I dare to take a glimpse I see it’s streaming from the monster’s throat.

Its outlines are blurry; it’s not more than a vague image of a huge shadow and teeth that are about to bite me and claws reaching out for me.

“Santana!” I hear Quinn’s voice. “What do you see?”

I can’t explain.

“Do you know what I’m seeing?” When I look at her she’s actually smiling. Has everyone lost it? “It’s my dad,” she says. And then after a pause: “I think I figured it out. We’ve got to fight, but not like this, not the way we used to. You have to make a choice.”

I shake my head and clench my eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“It’s time, Santana. Only you can stop this.” There’s a slight panic in her voice and I don’t understand why. The light’s burning my face now and I can smell the beast’s breath. This is it. This is everything. This is the end.

“Don’t give up now!” I hear Rachel. “We’re all seeing it. You know what to do!”

Then for a moment it’s quiet and Brittany is standing right beside me. She takes my hand and helps me up.

“What’s going on? What am I supposed to do?” I ask her, but she just smiles.

“We’re here for a reason and you know it. You told me the other day. You might not believe in fate, but I know that fate believes in you. I believe in you. Don’t you think we’ve been fighting long enough? It’s time to go home. This was always meant to be our last mission. And now you’re finally strong enough.”

“Britt. What…?” But deep down I know exactly what she’s talking about. Tears are pressuring against my eyes now. “I’m not ready, yet.”

“How long do you want to continue this?” Quinn pleads. She has Rachel tugged to her side. They’re looking at me with calm, sad eyes.

How long I want to continue?

Forever.

Not at all.

“I don’t know,” I shake my head.

Quinn pulls me into a hug and I feel Brittany stroke my hair as Rachel takes my hand.

“We’ve been fighting aliens; you’ve been fighting aliens for two years now,” Quinn whispers into my hair. “You’re my best friend.” I sob and she continues: “It’s time to stop fighting aliens and start fighting demons.”

The monster roars again and my stomach tightens at the prospect of losing everything. I know my friends are right. “I need to kill it!” I tell Quinn, who never lets go off me. “I have to reach a hundred points so we can leave together.” It’s a last-ditch attempt, nothing more.

But the others seem calm. They’re not even looking at our enemy. Brittany reaches out and touches the gun in my hand. “You can fight,” she says, “Or you can go home.”

They look at each other as Quinn adds: “We’re going home. It’s about time.”

And then they’re gone.

“Guys?” I scream. They can’t leave me now! Not now! “What about the alien? What about me?”

Deep down, though, I’ve always known what I have to do. I know they’re right. I know it, but I’m so afraid.

_How many people have to save you until you start saving yourself?_

Oh, Quinn.

_We’re a team._

You’re right, ‘Cakes.

_We aren’t dead, yet, remember? We can fight. I refuse to wait here for my death. I didn’t come here to surrender. Sure, it might seem hopeless, but, guys, we have to try. I believe in us._

Britt, if you believe then I can, too. I won’t surrender. Let’s do this.

Once again I look up into the brightness hitting me. I’m not about to be defeated, not by an alien, not by Gantz and definitely not by myself. This is _my_ story and it’s not over, yet.

What’s a name good for if you’re remembered as someone who gave up? What’s a name good for if you disappoint the only ones who know it? What would I need a name for if I don’t even know how to be?

I holster my weapon.

I am Santana Lopez.

And suddenly there’s darkness.

* * *

When I open my eyes I immediately recognize where I am. It’s the basement, _my_ basement; it’s the place of my death, where I thought I’d end it all and where it all started. The wooden floor reflects the lamp light nicely and makes the place actually seem warm. Everything is exactly how I left it: There’s my desk in the corner; the laptop is still switched on. And there’s my bed; I never made it. There’s the chair I accidentally kicked over when I slipped. And from the ceiling hangs… oh…right.

“So you’ve come back?” I hear a voice behind me. When I turn around there’s the one person I expected to meet here. It’s Shelby. She’s standing there in a long dress made of dark blue satin and wearing a soft smile on her face. She knew it all along. She knew I’d come back.

I nod.

“Have you made a decision?”

I don’t know.

“Everyone’s always telling me that I have to make a choice, that only I can make it all stop. I’ve been fighting my whole life and that never even stopped after my death. I struggled so hard just to keep going every day. And no one ever cared. Even when dad died no one cared. When I came out to myself no one was there to help me. Hell, there wasn’t even anyone else to come out to. Everything I know, everything I am I had to teach myself. Why do I always have to be the strong one? Why is it always on me?”

But Shelby only counters: “Everyone’s the strong one here. But _this_ is only your life, Santana.”

Sure. It was my life until I gave it up. What about what happened after that?

“So was this all a dream?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Is this purgatory?”

She laughs lightly. “No. This is Gantz.”

“Am I dead?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be dead?”

I think back to what I left behind and there’s nothing, just emptiness. What if I’m alone again? I won’t be able to make it by myself. I failed once; what if I fail again? What if I’m just going to be this massive failure?

“I don’t know if I want to live.”

She kisses my forehead the way only a mother would do.

“That’s exactly what you said two years ago. Aren’t you tired of running, yet? I’ve given you everything you ever wanted and it’s still not enough? You’ve always been so scared of life and yet you’re still here.”

I look down at the floor. I still have so many questions, so many doubts. Two years ago Shelby asked me if I wanted to live or die. It was my answer that brought me to Gantz.

_“Then fight until you can’t anymore,” she said. “Fight until you realize you don’t have to. Fight until you find beauty within yourself so you can see the beauty around you. Fight for your answer.”_

But I don’t want to fight anymore. “I’m so tired,” I tell her.

She sighs. “I gave you Nishi to make you strong. I gave you Quinn to believe in you. I gave you Rachel to teach you compassion. And I gave you Brittany so you could love. I have nothing else to give you.” She smiles. “Close your eyes. You have to make a choice.”

My eyes drift shut and images of Brittany and Rachel and Quinn come flashing behind my eyelids. Will they be there if I choose life? Or are they dead? But Shelby’s voice interrupts my thoughts:

“I gave you to them as well.”

“Are they alive?” My real question, of course, is if I will see them again.

“This isn’t about them, Santana. Your choice is only about you.” She smiles again and looks up to the ceiling. “You said it yourself, remember? Your death was only for you. You were right about that; if you want to be dead you have to be dead on your own and if you want to be alive you can’t live for anyone else. So, do you want to be dead or alive?”

I don’t know. There’s so much doubt, so many questions, so much to fear.

I look up. “Who are you? God?”

Shelby takes a step forward, folding her hands in front of her and looking me directly in the eyes, never dropping her warm smile. “Don’t be stupid, Santana. I make wishes come true. I’m sorry if you misinterpreted what happened.”

She cups my cheeks.

“You have to choose. This is your last chance. Fight for your answer. Believe in yourself.”

But I’m scared.

* * *

I can’t breathe. I don’t understand why, but I can’t breathe. I can’t even think. I panic and my hands shoot up. They find the rope around my neck as it tightens, painfully cutting into flesh. My legs are helplessly flailing and my feet won’t find the ground. My eyes tear up and I don’t understand why. I want to see what’s happening, but my vision blurs.

I hear someone gargle and whimper and the sounds echo painfully in my head until I finally realize that they’re coming from my own throat. My fingers scratch desperately at the rough material around my neck and I feel my head begin to swell. 

_Dad._

_I heard you_ r _call._

My toes bump against wood, but when I try to stand my feet slip and lose contact as I hear a loud thud.

It’s time.

It’s now or never.

I close my eyes and let fate choose me.

* * *

New York’s crowded, day and night. The city that never sleeps won’t let me rest until I reach my destination so I head for the place that’s been haunting me since the day my dad died.

He didn’t have to take the subway. He could have taken a cab, but….

Yeah.

He never planned on arriving anywhere. This station was his final stop and it’s time that I accepted that.

It’s time to make my peace.

The tiles beneath my feet are sticky and the whole place smells like urine and sweat and food. Someone bumps into me and doesn’t even look up to apologize. He just flips open his cell phone and hurries on.

I bury my hands in my pockets and try to block the noise out. I don’t know how I’ll be able to face it, but I know that I have to see it. This is the place. This is the time.

My feet meet the yellow line that marks the edge of the platform. All I have to do now is to look up. My head feels heavy, though and I close my eyes as I feel a single tear drop from my face. It splashes loudly onto the floor, right on the other side of the line.

I lift my head and open my eyes.

This is the place.

I take another step forward and look at the tracks as the people around me disappear. Suddenly the station is deserted. It’s just me and the past.

_Dad?_

Then I hear it: an incoming train. It’s the monster made from shadow and doubt, the beast lurking in the darkness like a constant yet invisible threat, the lump in my stomach, the fear making me hesitate; it’s the unspeakable that exists despite all my attempts to will it away.

_Dad?_

I clench my fists and jump onto the tracks. I can already see the headlights of the train through the tunnel and I start to run. I can easily outrun it. I can run for miles. I can run forever.

But haven’t I been running for long enough now?

I stop and slowly turn around.

Quinn.

Rachel.

Brittany.

I’ll face my nightmares.

I’ll fight for you.

But most of all, I’ll fight for myself.

I don’t have my suit and I don’t have my weapon. Stripped of all equipment I’m only me and I can only hope that it’ll be enough.

The lights blind me and I squint and lift my arm to protect my eyes. I hear the blood pounding in my ears and my heart almost breaks out of my chest. The demon’s jaw gapes open to swallow me alive. Its claws are sharp and ready to rip my flesh to pieces.

And I’m scared.

The rattling and squealing and buzzing of what’s about to hit me is deafening.

And I’m so scared.

Dad, I heard you.

I heard you loud and clear. But I can’t follow in your footsteps anymore.

Because I’ve finally figured out what I’m so scared of.

I’m scared, because…

…I don’t want to die.

Please!

The beam I’m hanging from cracks and I fall. I hit the ground with a dull thud, but it doesn’t really hurt. Finally my hands manage to loosen the rope and it’s only then that the pain sets in. Fiery rings flash in front of my eyes and they burn my brain and my throat and my skin and my hands. My fingertips are numb and my legs feel weak. I can’t even cough, because it hurts too much. So I just lie there, closing my eyes, waiting.

I’m alive.

I cry.

And I cry.

And I cry.

I’m still in the same basement where I found Shelby, the same basement where I died.

Except that I didn’t.

The tears slowly dry on my cheeks and my throat is still sore, but I manage to lift myself up shakily. It feels like I’ve never used my legs before. I take a few tiny steps and almost fall again and if it didn’t hurt so much I’d be laughing at my poor attempt at walking. The floor is hard and unforgiving beneath my feet; my soles burn at the contact. I don’t know why I’m not wearing shoes. I don’t even care. It‘s nice to feel something, anything at all.

When I tumble yet again and my knee bumps into the ground I give up on walking and giggle hoarsely before starting to cough.

For now, these first few steps will be enough.


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every day is a good reason to have cake.

Without my suit I feel naked and without my powers I feel weak. If anyone was to attack me I'd have to deal with it like everybody else.

I'm just a normal girl now.

The ground is hard beneath my feet and everything feels real and rough.

It's a cool day and it took me three tries to leave the house this morning. The first two times I opened the door a crack, only to decide I still wasn't wearing enough clothes. I feel like an idiot with all my different layers of shirts and pullovers, but the sun shines brightly into my face and the sky is perfectly blue.

I don't think I've ever taken the time to appreciate the blue sky before so I do it now.

I'm Santana.

And I'm alive.

I close my eyes for a few seconds and just stand there on the sidewalk. I don't care how crazy I must look. I'm alive and for the first time ever I feel like I have my life in my own hands.

Yet again I've transferred to Lima. It seemed like a place to start fresh back then and it feels like a place to start fresh now. It's full of the only memories I actually want to have and even though McKinley's full of losers I feel like I've been called here. Destiny is waiting for me.

* * *

Math.

I sit at my usual desk in the back row. For now I want to enjoy just being here, being among others. Participation will come later. My dark hair falls around my face and I tuck it back behind my ears. I set pen to paper and start copying the notes from the blackboard.

The grades I'll receive for tests and homework assignments still don't mean a thing. I'm the only one judging my life from now on and I think after all I've been through, I deserve an A+ just for being here.

I look up and smile at my teacher. He's just another cog in the machine, but it's the life that he's chosen so he'll be fine. In fact, everyone deserves an A+ just for being here every single day.

I let my gaze wander through the classroom as the teacher's voice fades into background noise. It's soothing.

I let my gaze wander and I understand that, yes, everyone is different and every one of us will grow and learn and become someone eventually.

I let my gaze wander and suddenly blue eyes find mine. She looks at me with that expression I love so much - fearless and open. She looks at me like she understands and smiles. It's only the briefest of moments and I barely have time to think about what's happening before she blends back into the background and disappears. But before I can wonder if I've made her up, blonde hair whips around a second time.

"Do you mind if we switch places?" she asks the boy sitting next to me. He nods and gets up as my heart starts to hammer.

"Sorry," she shrugs into the direction of the blackboard and ignores all the looks she gets as she starts pushing her desk closer to mine until they touch. When she sits down she takes my hand. I squeeze it tightly and she smiles again.

"Hey."

* * *

"Happy Birthday!"

It's been half a year since our last mission or, as we refer to it, our birthday.

Rachel's dads turned out to be pretty dope. They were so relieved that their daughter has finally found friends that they let me move in with them. "Don't you dare take a job. A young lady like you should focus on her education and enjoy her free time," LeRoy replied when I offered to work after school to pay for my food and clothes. They treat all four of us like family.

Every other day Hiram pulls me aside in a quiet moment and his question is always the same: "How's she holding up?" It's a pretty tough question to answer, because, the truth is, the bullying has never really stopped. It's gotten easier, though, now that we have each other and it's become less frequent. Also, Rachel founded a Glee club and seems to get along with the kids there. They share her passion for music rather than making fun off her for it. I pray for the day that she quits asking me to join, though.

So when Hiram asks me about her I answer honestly: "I think she'll be alright." He always hugs me and tells me how grateful he is that Rachel has me in her life and that he'll do anything to support me after graduation as well. I'm glad he doesn't know what I originally thought of his daughter.

"Well, if you won't do us the honor, I'll do it myself," Rachel grins and blows out the candles on the cake she baked.

We do this every once in a while, celebrating that we're here. We don't even need a date; every day is a good reason to have cake.

Rachel takes the knife and Quinn stares at her in mock fear before bursting into laughter.

Not everything's great, but it's getting better. When Quinn's mom found her daughter on the floor of her living room, puking her guts out, she made a decision. She got rid of the pills and she got rid of her husband. Judy Fabray is actually quite fierce when she's clean. She doesn't understand why we celebrate our birthday or why it is our birthday at all, but she's always happy to join us. In a way, it's her birthday, too.

Rachel ruffles Quinn's hair until Quinn wraps both her arms around the shorter girl. "You're my favourite 'Cakes of all cakes," she laughs and pecks Rachel's head. Judy raises an eyebrow, because she doesn't get it. She also doesn't get why Rachel keeps saying she misses the pink or why her daughter abandoned her dresses and replaced them with ragged jeans and sneakers. She doesn't understand when we all became friends. She doesn't get it, but she accepts it just like she accepts Rachel. I guess when you find your child barely alive that's a wake-up call you don't forget. Judy wouldn't dare force Quinn into those old-fashioned standards she was raised with ever again.

Surprisingly, she even offered to take in Brittany. "We've got plenty of space," she said.

Everything's still a little surreal to all of us. "I feel like I'm stuck in one of Dali's paintings," Quinn likes to say. "It's kinda cool." I've got to say, though, that seeing Quinn lying on the couch, wearing a bright yellow Sex Pistols t-shirt while reading "Human, All Too Human" is the hardest part of understanding reality sometimes.

But if I'm being honest with myself, Gantz only really started making sense a couple of weeks ago.

We have sleepovers every weekend and this weekend was no exception. After living together for so long it's tough being separated. I think LeRoy, Hiram and Judy are all waiting for the day when we realize we're spending too much time together and get into a big fight. They can't know how much we really need each other and why.

On some days I still instinctively reach out for my suit the moment I open my eyes in the morning. Sometimes I wake up and find my hand is already wandering around, searching the space next to me. On those days it takes a while to get oriented. I'll startle, thinking I've overslept, not knowing what day it is or even what year. It's those days on which I'm especially grateful for having a girlfriend. My head on her shoulder and her arm around my waist are enough to remind me that I'm safe.

When I woke one Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago I found myself in exactly that position. It was still dark outside and we were both still naked. Brittany sighed when I brushed a golden strand of hair from her face. She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. "What time is it?" she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep.

"I don't know," I answered softly. I didn't want to take my eyes off of her so I just smiled and kissed her nose.

Somehow I had imagined sex to be different - heated and wild and rough. It was something the cool kids bragged about. But making love to Brittany, slowly, gently, while breathing in every one of her sighs and whimpers, is something I could never have dreamed of. That Sunday morning when she trembled beneath me, whispering my name and squeezing my hand, suddenly one last question snapped free inside of me. And when her hips canted up and her breath hitched and I got to feel her come undone beneath my fingertips I realized she'd have the answer.

Because Brittany is a true miracle; sometimes I think she knows everything.

"How come you were never afraid of me?" I asked when she was wrapped around me again, nuzzling my neck. She stilled her movement and looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A part of me was sorry for breaking the spell of the moment, but I just had to know, so I added:

"I did my best to be feared. I didn't even help you on purpose back then. Before I reached Gantz I'd never had a single friend. No one liked me and I didn't like anyone else, either."

She propped herself on one elbow and seemed to contemplate for a few long seconds. "You always thought that because you didn't have friends everyone would hate you. And that made you think that you're a bad person. But you're not."

I almost cracked in two at her statement. "I'm not?"

She just shook her head in response.

"I could see that from across the classroom, way back when our eyes first met. Also," she shrugged, "I don't believe in the concept of 'bad'. Like, why should anyone be bad to the core? I don't understand how that would be possible. Aren't we all just trying to get along?"

Maybe she really does know everything.

"When was that anyway?" I wondered. "I mean, when we first met. How much time passed for you?" To my surprise she didn't even have to think about that one.

"None," she stated, simply. "When we died time stopped for us. Shelby said that it's all about what we want, right? So Gantz is a state of mind. I think that we all died on the same day."

And suddenly I knew what I had to do. I knew it wasn't too late. I knew there was one more thing to accomplish.

"I love you, Britt," I told her and pulled her close. "I love you, because you're the smartest person I know. Thank you."

But she just gave me a puzzled expression, as if she hadn't said anything special. For her, all the sweet things in life are just simple facts. I can't wait to learn all that from her.

* * *

"You're gonna go today?" Quinn asks after everyone has stuffed themselves with cake. I never kicked the habit of sitting outside the house, leaned against a wall. But I have to say that sitting on the front porch of the Fabray mansion provides me with a much better view than my old apartment.

"As planned," I tell her.

She nods. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

But she knows that's not possible. "Just keep an eye on the others."

She gives me a half-smile and pats my shoulder. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And come back soon."

* * *

It takes me exactly twenty-eight minutes to find what I was looking for.

It's the spot where Evans and the Jackets died. It's the street where the onion boy and his dad were murdered. It's the place where I first saw Rachel's true face.

For a few minutes I walk around, trying to locate the exact spot where it happened. Finally, I find it. There's the wall I was leaned against and the sidewalk where Rachel materialized. I remember standing directly opposite that house so I know I'm right.

There's no traffic. It's a Sunday and this is a small side road. I wander around a little until I make out where I think the onion boy died. There's not even a stain of him left, so I can only guess. No one but Rachel and I will ever know that he ever lived.

I kneel down and touch the asphalt in front of me. "I'm sorry," I whisper and I'm not sure it's the boy I'm talking to. This is not what I came here for. I swallow hard and close my eyes.

Hoping to be heard, I whisper, "Gantz. I need to go back."

Nothing happens. I repeat, louder:

"Gantz! Call me back!"

Nothing happens, nothing except that tears well up in my eyes. I wipe them away with my sleeve.

"Shelby! Puck! Gantz! I need to go back!"

I wait for about half an hour and when I don't receive a response I finally get up, hanging my head. "I'm sorry. I tried."

But when I look up again I'm in the room.

Breathing out slowly I take in the familiar sight of the black ball in front of me. Oh, Gantz. I haven't missed you at all. I'll definitely make sure to leave quickly after this is done. I cross the room and knock on the sphere. "Open up."

The ball opens and Puck looks up. He doesn't seem surprised to see me. "I know what you're here for," he says. "You finally understood my email, huh?"

I do.

"Consider this a last gift from me," he says. "Choose wisely. But I think that you've already made your decision."

I nod. I know what I want.

"Puck?" He looks at me and smiles softly before answering the question I never asked.

"My time hasn't come, yet," he says with a slight smile.

I nod again at him. He'll get his shot, I'm sure of it.

"Gantz." My eyes are fixed on the empty screen now.

"Option three. Revival. Joichiro Nishi."

I take a few steps back to make space for Gantz to go to work. My stomach is tingling from excitement and a fair amount of fear. He has every reason to hate me. I'm not delusional. I know he hasn't learned the same lessons I have. I know he'll still be the same old Nishi.

His hair shines black and short strands fall into glaring dark eyes. Heavy boots stand firmly on the laminate and gloved fists are clenched. His lips are pressed together and he scans the room quietly as he materializes. I know what he's searching for and he quickly finds it.

"You," he hisses.

I ignore the icy tone in his voice. "Nishi." It feels weird talking to him and I stretch the pause longer than necessary as he just stands there, staring at me angrily. "I came here to apologize."

He doesn't seem to care.

"In the world of Gantz we don't have friends," he replies. "It was my own fault." It's the answer of someone who's still trapped in the game. "You're not wearing your suit," he comments after eyeing me up.

I shake my head.

"So I assume you met her."

My eyes go wide, but only for a second. He's always known more about Gantz than I have so there's no reason to be surprised now. I nod tersely and reply: "I've made my choice. I called you back, because you deserve your chance as well."

"Condescending." he laughs sarcastically. He doesn't buy it.

"Also, because I felt guilty for letting you die," I admit. "But Nishi, you helped me more than you probably know. More than you intended to, I think." I touch his shoulder and I'm half surprised he doesn't break my arm. "This is the only way I could think of to pay you back."

He looks at me with empty eyes, an expression I know too well. "So what now? Who says I wasn't better off dead? I'm fifteen and no matter what I do now, my life is already over."

Fifteen. He's just a kid.

"You don't have to choose now," I explain. I know I can't force him. God knows I would've killed anyone who tried to force me. "Just consider it. Because..." I pause again and he looks at me with a flicker in his eyes that indicates he wants to look away but can't. "You're worth it."

As expected he doesn't reply. I take my hand from his shoulder and see him relax a little.

"But if you ever happen to visit Lima, one way or another, look me up."

I turn to go when I finally hear him speak and there's anger in his voice, but also fear.

"I've done terrible things. I can never go back. I'm not like you. I've killed people. I've killed my classmates. No one will  _ever_  forgive me."

Forgiveness, Nishi. Is that what you're searching for?

I forgive you, but it's not my place to say this to you. Because I'm not the one who needs to forgive you.

"I meant what I said," I say instead. "Take care of yourself."

He nods tersely and closes his eyes. His journey isn't over and the demons he'll have to face are greater than mine. He'll go on fighting. He'll go on until he can't anymore. He'll wander through darkness until he reaches the beauty within himself so he can see the beauty around him. Just like Shelby said.

And Nishi is not like Finn. He won't make a decision before he's ready. There's a reason why he's still here.

* * *

When I get back, Quinn's waiting for me on the porch. I nod and she smiles and puts her arm around my shoulders and leads me inside.

Rachel and Brittany are cuddled together on the couch in the living room, fast asleep from a sugar crash.

Quinn huffs in mock jealousy, which makes me chuckle.

Ultimately we decide to let them sleep and take Quinn's bedroom instead. Her room matches her outfit with its walls plastered in punk and metal posters.

"Why did you never go back to pink?" I ask her while staring at a CD case full of albums I've never even heard of.

"I don't know," she says. "I chose that hair color in the realms of Gantz so I guess that's where it belongs. But, hey, I also gave up smoking and you never seem to tease me about that."

I let myself fall backwards onto her bed. It's way too soft and cozy.

_Quinn and I will probably go on challenging each other. When life throws me a curveball I know she'll be there to teach me how to catch it._

"Doesn't mean I didn't notice," I reply. She gives me her I-told-you-to-talk-to-me-about-stuff-look so I roll my eyes and add: "I didn't want you to think about cigarettes so I decided not to mention it for a while."

She doesn't seem convinced, but lets it slide. She jumps into bed next to me and we stare at the ceiling together.

"After all he did to you. Why did you go back for him?"

I know it seems like a weird thing to do, but Puck's message was clear.

_Life and death belong to us. We sometimes feel like we're losing control, but if you ask me, that's just because we're closing our eyes to the options we have. No one can take that choice from me._

"He's just a kid," I reply. "Everyone deserves a chance."

_In a weird way having that choice comforts me. I know my options. Are we terrified of the idea of being terrified? I'm terrified that I'll stop existing._

She takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "I love you for that."

Me, too.

"Do you think he'll be happy one day?" Quinn looks at me and hazel eyes turn dark, and for a second it's almost as if we were back on our missions and her expression is begging me to comfort her, give her the strength to go on.

"Maybe."

_So despite everything I'll continue my fight for answers and I'll continue to fight for my choices. I'll fight for my name._

"What about us? Do you think we'll be happy, like, truly happy?"

I squeeze her hand once more and turn my head towards her.

"I guess there's only one way to find out."

_I'll continue to live._


End file.
